USUK Drabble Calendar: December 2014
by 365daysofUSUK
Summary: A drabble a day for more USUK! The file for the USUK Drabble Calendar, the month of December in the year of 2014.
1. December 1st

**AUTHOR: seecarrun**

**1st of December, 2014 - Superhero Class**

"Arthur, love, be a dear and take Peter to his class tomorrow morning, would you?"

"But Mum, I–"

"Thank you so much, Arthur!" she kissed his wrinkled, disgruntled brow. "That helps me out so much!"

Arthur groaned. Ever since Peter had turned two, his mother had him enrolled in fun, cute little preschool classes at the city Rec Center. Thankfully, he had previously been in high school and had been forgiven from Peter-Duty, but now that he was in college and on winter break for the month, he was stuck.

Like it wasn't bad enough that he was eighteen with a six year old sibling... But alas, hopefully one class wouldn't hurt.

"Class is so much fun!" Peter chirped, bouncing around his room as he got dressed. "It's all about superheroes! We get to make masks, and weapons, and beat bad guys! And guess what?"

Arthur smiled softly at his brother's innocent excitement. "What?"

Peter leaped over to Arthur and gestured to him to come down to his level. Arthur blinked, but obliged. "My teacher," Peter whispered in Arthur's ear, "is a _real superhero!_"

Arthur chuckled, causing Peter to pout. "Is that so?" he asked with a grin.

"It _is _so!" Peter insisted. "Wait until you meet him! Mr. America is a real superhero! He's strong and smart, and Mum thinks he's very handsome!"

"Well," Arthur sang, grabbing Peter's hand and leading him out to his car parked in the driveway, "I'll just have to see for myself, hm?"

When they arrived at the center, Peter practically leaped out of the car before it was even in park, causing Arthur to shout after him and give chase. There were already quite a few other cars in the parking lot, and judging by the figures in the window, Arthur gathered that they had arrived a bit late. He blushed and let Peter lead him by the hand.

"You have to sign me in," he informed him as soon as they got inside. Suddenly, Peter's coat was in his arms, and he was running across the room to join the rest of the children where they were seated on the floor.

Arthur signed Peter in and glanced around the room, noticing the women and men in the chairs around the edge of the room smiling at him softly. "You must be Arthur," a dark-haired woman said with a welcoming smile. "Rose mentioned you might be bringing Peter today. Here, have a seat, Mr. Alfred is about to get started." She moved her diaper-bag off the seat next to her so Arthur could sit.

"Thank you," he said with a smile. Sitting down, he took off his coat, and draped it over the back of his chair along with Peter's, and turned his attention to the center of the room.

"Hey heroes!" a loud, booming voice called. The kids cheered, as a tall, muscular, masked man jumped out from deep into the adjoining hallway. He flashed the kids a bright, blinding smile and waved at their cheering. Arthur blinked.

_This _was Mr. Alfred? This absolutely stunning masked creature in an endearingly home-made red, white, and blue skintight costume was the _preschool teacher?_

Bloody hell, maybe he _was _a superhero after all.

"So!" Alfred cried, clapping and kneeling down with the kids. "We have an awesome class prepared for you all today. We're talking about two of my favorite heroes today!"

"I like Batman!" a small boy exclaimed, setting off a string os similar exclamations from the other kids. Mr. Alfred laughed, and finally managed to quiet them down.

"Today's first hero, is a super solider by the name of Captain America! Who's heard of him?!"

The students cheered, obviously recognizing the name. Mr. Alfred smiled.

"What color do you think Captain _America's_ uniform is?" The kids sat there, silent. Mr. Alfred tried again. "What colors do you think of when you think of _America?_"

"Red, white, and blue!" A little girl exclaimed, and Alfred beamed, giving her a thumbs up.

"Right, Shelia! How about Captain America's weapon? Wonder Woman had her lasso... Spider-Man had his webs... What does Captain America have?"

Peter's hand shot up. "A shield!"

Arthur blinked, somewhat impressed. He certainly hadn't known that.

"Awesome, Peter! Good! Today, you guys are gonna make your own Captain America shield!" The kids cheered. "Because remember; it's not enough to just beat bad guys, heroes need to be abel to protect themselves, too! Let's go!"

The kids trampled over to the low tables to begin coloring their paper plate shields. When they were finished, they lined up across the room and used them to protect themselves from the sponges that Mr. Alfred tossed their way. The whole time, he shouted words on encouragement, reminding the kids of the importance of their superhero training.

After that, the kids used fabric markers to decorate capes made from cut up t-shirts. Something to do with Superman or something. Arthur wasn't paying attention, his eyes and concentration trained on the young teacher hopping around from student to student, praising their designs.

The class ended with a chance for all the kids to punch at the face of some super villain taped to a pillow (Lex Luthor, Superman's arch nemesis, the mother next to him explained), and a singing of the goodbye song, before Mr. Alfred was high-fiving the kids and telling them that he would see them next week.

Peter ran over, wielding his shield and his cape flapping behind him. He smiled up at Arthur brightly. "Wasn't class cool?!" he asked.

"The coolest," Arthur agreed with a chuckle. "Here, put on your coat."

Arthur helped Peter wiggle into his coat and pulled the cape free from the collar so it could continue to flap about. "Have everything?" he asked. Peter nodded. "Okay, let's go–"

"Don't forget to sign him out, Mr. Kirkland!"

Arthur spun around, coming face to face with the freshly unmasked Mr. Alfred. _He's blond. _Arthur found himself thinking. _And he has glasses. His eyes look even more blue behind the classes. When did he put those on?_

"Ah, please, call me Arthur," he replied lamely.

Mr. Alfred blinked, but then beamed. "Okay, no problem, Arthur! You're Peter's big brother, right? Your mom's told me all about you. I just need you to sign Peter out. Liability stuff, you know."

"Ah, yes, sorry." Arthur blushed, taking Alfred's pen and scribbling his name. "And has she? All good things I hope?"

"Oooh yeah," he said with a chuckle, as if he was laughing at his own private joke. "Listen, you mom tells me we have, _ahem_, similar interests." He shrugged, blushing softly. "See you next week? Maybe we could grab some coffee after class?"

"My brother only likes tea, Mr. Alfred," Peter piped in helpfully. Arthur flushed and pushed him away. "Hey!"

"T-that would be lovely," Arthur stammered. "I'll see you then."

Mr. Alfred grinned. "R-really? Awesome! Can't wait!"

"Mum's been trying to arrange this for months," Peter stated matter-of-factly once they stepped outside. Arthur took a deep breath and let the coolness of the winter air chill his burning cheeks. "She's going to be really mad at you if you mess this up."

"I wont mess it up," he grumbled, ruffling Peter's hair. And he wouldn't. He would make sure of it.

He'd never dated a _real superhero_, after all.


	2. December 2nd

**ARTIST: april-cherie-sprinkles (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: hannaadi88**

**2nd of December, 2014**

When I was younger I used to be very clingy. It's hard to tell judging by who I am today, I know, but touch was a fundamental part of me. It was so ingrained into my very being that I didn't give it a second thought. Only when touch became forbidden did I become aware of how much it had meant to me.

My parents would touch me a lot, especially my mum. It was just the way they expressed their love to me. From the routine hug my mum would give me when I'd return from a long day at school to the warm pats on my shoulder when I'd pass my father in the hallway. I learned how to hug my friends when they cried after being hit by a ball and made sure that I'd kiss the hurt away, just like I saw my kindergarten teacher do before she'd stick a Disney Band-Aid on the scratch. Touch was casual and free and I didn't see anything wrong with it.

Things started to change when I grew older. I began noticing how my friends would shy from my touch instinctively and then laugh it off. When someone hurt themselves during a game he wouldn't start crying. He'd put on a brave face and brush off any worried looks. That's what being a boy meant at age twelve. If you showed any sort of emotion or displayed any sort of weakness, the anointed class bully would beat you up and laugh at you for being such a wuss. Needless to say, nobody wanted to be labeled as 'a girl'.

I understood that I couldn't afford to be so free with my hugs and smiles anymore. By the time I was sixteen, touch wasn't only regarded as a weakness—it also marked you as gay. If you so much as let your hand linger longer than completely necessary after patting a friend on the back you'd both feel extremely awkward. Chances were that your friend wouldn't get too close to you the next time you met.

While it was more or less taboo to touch my peers, girls were a different thing altogether. With them, it was all about touch. You'd wrap your arm around her shoulders to generate possessiveness as you walked her home. You'd later recount to your friends how far you'd gotten with her, if you got to second or even third base with her. The farther you'd go, the more your friends would admire you and ask for your advice for when they'd finally get their chance.

The thing was, I didn't want to touch girls. Frankly, I had no interest in their soft bodies or their red lips. Aesthetically they could be stunning, but I didn't want stunning. I wanted the muscles I'd seen on the football field. I liked the feel of a firm warmth beneath my fingers, not the suppleness the other guys adored. I felt like the outsider some of my classmates kept calling me. I wasn't 'normal'. I desperately wanted to be just like everyone else, though. It's lonely being different.

That's why I started dating Emily. She was quiet, shy, bookish and generally overlooked, just like me. Our dates mostly consisted of going to bookstores and debating politics over a cup of coffee. Aside from the routine parting hug at the end of every outing, we didn't touch much. I think she might have wanted something more, but it was something I wasn't willing to give. The guys didn't have to know that, of course. I was redeemed in their eyes. Being good with words, I'd fabricate tales of late nights and passionate kisses. Suddenly, I was one of the boys. I wouldn't turn my head after hearing my name whispered when I walked down the hallway anymore. I couldn't be gay if I had a girlfriend, after all.

And then I met Alfred. Meeting him for the first time might have been the most embarrassing thing I'd ever done. I had been so surprised at having a perfect combination of blond and blue eyes suddenly thrust into my vision and actually addressing me that I closed the door to my locker on my finger. True story. His first impression of me was that of a complete klutz who had to be taken to the nurse's office. He hadn't even known my name until he asked me after handing over the ice bag the nurse had given him for me. By the time he ran off with an apologetic smile saying that he was late for class, I knew that I had royally fucked up any chance of seeing him again.

Thankfully, I was wrong. I saw him again when the day was over and again the next day. And the next. Eventually his perfection started to fade away and I began to notice all of his faults: the way he spoke with his mouth full, the permanent smudge of dirt on his glasses which he refused to wipe off. His lack of tact that would leave me with my mouth wide open and red cheeked for the rest of the day. He was obnoxious and loud and, no matter how good he looked, there were days when I'd quietly groan when I saw him approaching me from the distance.

What was annoying at first slowly became endearing (at least, most of the time). Alfred wouldn't only spend his recess with me or a few hours after school—he began to appear in my dreams as well. In my dreams we touched. A lot. I'd wake up with an ache between my legs and an acute desire to never see the boy again, if only because the thought of seeing him after such a dream mortified me. I had finally made a friend who wasn't part of my past. I didn't want to scare him away too.

I started to hold myself back. I wouldn't even return his friendly punches when he'd greet me in the morning. High fives, which I'd never been a fan of in the first place, disappeared. Instead of making him feel more comfortable with me like I'd planned, however, Alfred became more distant. I couldn't bring myself to touch him, though. Eventually I'd only speak to him in passing when we happened across each other on the way to our classes. I missed him, but I believed that I was doing us both a favor in the long run.

But then one day I found him crying in an empty classroom at the end of the day. His dog had died the night before and I knew how close he had been with Buddy. I had sat down beside him and wrapped my arm around him instinctively. Before I could pull away, Alfred had leaned into my touch. He needed it.

Touch is a powerful thing. I learned that when he reached out for me and pressed his lips to mine in a salty kiss. I may be different for liking it but if Alfred and I could be different together, 'different' didn't sound so lonely anymore.


	3. December 3rd

**AUTHOR: amaryka**

**3rd of December, 2014**

Alfred grunted after setting down a particularly heavy box. He straightened up and stretched until he heard the pleasant pop of his back. Letting out a contented sigh, he walked to the small kitchen and sat on one of the bar chairs to take a short break. His eyes raked the freshly purchased apartment in front of him. He could hear the soft sounds of Arthur in the next room unloading a box. He was excited to start their new life together,albeit a little nervous. God knows he had wanted this for longer than he could recall.

The American leaned his head back and sighed again, closing his eyes. It would take awhile to get settled, the two of them didn't even have a proper bed, and currently shared an air mattress they would need to blow up before bed tonight. Alfred didn't mind that one bit. To him, this was bliss.

He remained still for awhile before he felt Arthur's lips pressed against his own, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Well it's good to see you among the living Sleeping Beuty." Arthur said after pulling away.

"Hey, I was working hard." Alfred pouted. "I just took a short break."

"Suuuure you did."

"It's true! Get back here." Alfred pressed their lips together again.

After pulling away, Arthur rounded the seat to sit in Alfred's lap and wrap his arms around the American's neck. "You're such a good helper." He patronized.

"Oh stop it." Alfred chuckled.

Arthur smiled. "I'm feeling a bit peckish myself, why don't we break for lunch?"

Alfred smiled. "Anything you want sweetheart."

Arthur closed the distance between them with another kiss. Oh yes.

Surely this was bliss.


	4. December 4th

**AUTHOR: fuji-kumori**

**4th of December, 2014**

"Alfred!" Arthur stood above the table, holding down wrapping paper around a box. "Come and help me!"

It was December and a few weeks from now, was Christmas. It was a time to hang up the lights, wreaths, and the christmas tree. People scrambling the streets, fighting each other over the great deals they get for presents.

"Why'd you have to wrap them now?" Alfred whined, trudging over to the living room, where is partner stood.

"Just get over here."

Alfred walked behind Arthur, his chest pressing up against Arthur's back. Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's stomach, pulling him in closer.

"Y-you git!" Arthur elbowed him in the side, but Alfred hadn't even flinched. "Let go of me!"

"Don't you want to just cuddle with me in bed?"

Arthur stopped flailing around, pausing to think about what his partner had just said. "...I just need to-well, we just woke up Alfred."

"But I ne-ed my daily dose of Arthur," Alfred leaned down and rested his head on Arthur's shoulder. He breathed out, his warm breath tickling Arthur's skin.

Arthur shivered, feeling slightly chapped lips brush against his neck. "A-Alfred," he turned his neck to look at him. "If I say yes, will you stop?"

Alfred looked up at him and winked, "Maybe."


	5. December 5th

**ARTIST: amaryka (Art is available on the ****_365daysofusuk_**** tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: spectrum-22**

**5th of December, 2014**

* * *

><p>Note: This was prompted by the "A Cold Day" blog post of Himaruya's!<p>

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><p>It wasn't that England didn't want to help whoever had rung his doorbell at this late hour (well, half nine - he tried not to dwell on how old he sounded), for the poor citizen was probably lost or something, but he was reluctant to answer the door as this meant leaving his incredibly cosy sofa. The prime reason for said coziness was the dark red blanket draped around his body, not just any old blanket but a wearable one complete with hood; yes, he'd secretly bought one after America had raved on about them and tried to sell him one, but there was no way anybody needed to know this. As warm as the thing may be, flattering he knew it was not, and so he grudgingly uncovered himself from the soft material, immediately feeling chillier.<p>

He doubted the visitor was anyone he knew because not many nations knew his address (he hoped), and they surely would've phoned first, but he was curious indeed upon approaching his door to see the outline of a person crouching down. The reason for this soon became clear as his letter box was opened and a voice shouted through that certainly didn't belong to a poor, lost citizen.

"Hey, England! It's me - America! You in?"

_What? _He blinked, not remembering arranging this, but somehow not _that _surprised America would turn up unannounced.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, foregoing a more customary 'hello' as America rather amusingly tried to look up at him through the horizontal opening.

"I was nearby, so I thought I'd come visit!"

"You were?!"

"Yeah…I lost a bet with Prussia so I had to go do some dumb videos for his blog, which turned out kinda fun actually, but yeah I thought I'd stop over!"

Automatically England opened his mouth to question this interesting definition of 'nearby', but thought better of it; for America's standards he supposed it was, but also, it was quite nice of him to make the effort (not that he'd admit that out loud, of course).

"You could've called," he couldn't stop from having a little grumble, hardly meaning it though, "I might've had plans." Much to his chagrin he heard a snort in response, tutting as the outline of broad shoulders shrugged.

"I meant to but I left my phone at Prussia's by accident 'cause I was rushing to get my flight. Or I would've got here even further past your bedtime, haha!"

"…You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, are you gonna let me in or not?"

"Ah…just let me get my keys," he lied, needing instead to hide the damn blanket thing, because his pride simply couldn't let America see it, unwilling to stroke his ego not to mention opening his own self up to ridicule. The cleaning cupboard would do, he decided, doubting America would ever willingly go in there, and he flung it inside before returning to let him in, hoping it wasn't too obvious the keys had been in the hallway all along.

"Ta-da!" America greeted with a flourish, brandishing, to England's disbelief, a navy version of the very item he'd just thrown into exile. "I could tell you were interested but you didn't want to buy it in front of everyone else, so I brought one over to you - an exclusive deal, now you don't have to pay shipping fees!"

"You-! Don't come over just to start selling me things!" he berated, in truth bemused at this strange persistence, especially as the way in which America's cheeks were lightly flushed would suggest he was kind of embarrassed. Or was he just cold? England couldn't tell.

"And here I thought I was doing something nice!" Stepping inside, he pouted but England simply scoffed.

"I still have to buy it, right? It would be a nicer gesture if you just gave it to me."

"Uh, like a present? Is that what you want?"

"I - That's not what I meant!" Willing himself not to get flustered, he failed.

"Right… well, maybe you can have it in exchange for letting me stay a few nights." America, slightly sheepishly, suggested.

"Hmm. That's a new way of inviting yourself over."

"Is that a no? You don't want it then?"

"Nope. I bought one off China for cheaper," he joked, purely to wind him up.

"What? Really?!" He exclaimed, betrayed, as England smirked with success. Before he could confess the lie though the younger nation suddenly stripped off his coat and replaced it with the blanket, hood up and all, looking…pleased? Completely ridiculous too though, with only his glasses and pink cheeks visible as the material hung around his face and covered his torso. Not even slightly endearing, despite one faulty part of England's brain saying otherwise.

"I bet mine's better, but they're super warm, am I right?" America grinned, and England couldn't help but wonder if the idiot had just wanted someone else to wear one with him all along. Not that he was in any position to make fun, though.

"I was joking, you know," he admitted, amused as America's eyes widened in regret, "I do have one, but, um, it's from your place, not China," and to hide his rapidly oncoming blush he left to retrieve it, returning to, as he should've guessed, a now rather smug looking America.

"Haha! I'm such a good salesman!"

"Whatever," England dismissed, "they are comfy, damn it. How about we put a film on and don't speak about this to anyone, _especially_ France?"

"Deal!" And with that they took another look at each other and snickered. They really did look silly. And they still did hours later, having fallen asleep on the sofa leaning on each other, red and navy fabric overlapping.

(This wasn't mentioned afterwards, of course, averting their eyes as they stretched their stiff body parts, just as it was never mentioned after America left that he'd taken England's blanket instead of the navy one he'd come with. Which was good, because he really couldn't bring himself to explain why he wanted England to have the one he'd bought so much.)


	6. December 6th

**AUTHOR: Akiko**

**6th of December, 2014 - Reunion**

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><p><strong>Continuation from drabble "Farewell" (9th September)<strong>

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><p>His body arched. It was an agonizing pain, even the very <em>thought<em> of moving made him whimper. But at the same time, it meant he was not dead.

Just… how?

_Why_ was he not dead?

Gentle fingers brushed over his cheeks. Caressed his skin and they were the only source of warmth. He was shivering, even more with each second that he awoke further. Finally, he managed to open his eyes just a bit, meeting a glance out of breathtaking blue.

_Alfred._ The thought echoed in his head and Arthur tried to move his fingers, his hand, _something_ to reach out and feel the hot skin of his devil under his fingertips. Could it even be him? What if this was another cruel illusion his drained mind came up with to keep him sane? Or a particular atrocious punishment one of the archangels had devised?

"A- Al…f-fre…d…?" Arthur's voice was thin, broken. His throat hurt from trying to call his lover's name, was sore from screaming when he had received what probably was the most terrible punishment. The angel forced the memories back that flooded his mind – he did not want to remember.

The reaction to his weak calling was, that the slim fingers he had thought to be an illusion returned to his cheek, ever so gently combing through his hair. "Don't speak. You're… you're seriously injured, wait until you…. feel better." It _was_ Alfred. There was no way Arthur could ever mistake his voice and just hearing the gentle tone soothed the scorching pain and exhausted he felt.

Arthur became more and more aware of his surroundings. His devil had rested him on a bed, but he did not recognize the room. It wasn't their apartment – the small one Alfred had rented, pretending to be a normal human in order to allow them peace for their relationship. And it was so hot. The air was burning in his lungs, made it hard to breath.

The angel opened his eyes completely, searching Alfred's blue ones. The black-haired answered his unspoken question with a heavy sigh. "You are in Hell. I brought you here, but… " Arthur could see that his devil wanted to say something, but couldn't. Instead, he shook his head, caressed Arthur's cheek and leaned forward to give him a soft kiss. "Do you… still remember what happened?"

What a good question…. Arthur did remember some things, but his mind fought against it. But he tried to nonetheless, closing his eyes.

_Seven days are a long time. Especially in Heaven's prison._

_Arthur really doesn't know how much longer he can endure all this, how much longer he is willed to fight against the punishments and pain and desperate longing for Alfred. He has no idea if his lover made it. But the imagination that he is alright and safe is the only hope Arthur still has._

_He flinches when the heavy door is opened and the archangel he had served enters the cell. Francis' face is cold, emotionless, a perfect mask as he asks him to get up. Arthur can barely move, injuries cover his body, not to mention his broken wings or the iron shackles around his wrists and ankles, but he complies._

"_It is time", Francis tells him._

_Guarded by two seraphs, Heaven's guardians, Arthur is led over to the execution place. The angel knows what will happen, but strangely, he is not afraid. His thoughts circle back to Alfred when he is roughly pushed down on his knees and Francis' voice echoes heavily over the area._

"_Guardian angel Arthur, you are accused of not only betraying Heaven, your duties and your archangel, but also establishing a relationship with a devil. There is only one punishment for an atrocity like this. Your wings will be taken from you and you are sentenced to death. Do you have any last wishes or regrets you wish to tell?"_

_Arthur, despite all the pain and humiliation he had gone through until now, looks up into the blue eyes of his archangel. The shadow of a smile ghosts over his lips. "I only regret that I obeyed you for so long."_

_If his comment made Francis angry, then he doesn't show it; instead, he nods shortly at an angel behind Arthur, the only one dressed in black. The blond can hear heavy steps approaching him, knows what will happen next but he still flinches._

_Two hands grab his wings._

_A sudden, forceful movement._

_Arthur screams, so loud he doesn't even recognizes it as his own voice. Pain explodes in his body before numbness spreads, dizzies him. He can't hold back his tears that blur his vision, but they are not enough to hide the whirling white feathers that fall down around him, some tainted with blood red. The fresh wounds on his back hurt like a hot knife, but it will be over soon._

_The bright sound of a sword being drawn makes the angel jolt in fear again. At the same time, it promises salvation. He must no longer endure the pain._

_What happens then is a blur, a chaotic mess._

_Dulled from the pain and his blood rushing in his ears, his heart beating painfully hard, Arthur can hear a sound like an explosion. Screams and angry demands. The agitated fluttering of white wings._

_And then_

_A hint of black._

_A pair of electric-blue eyes that focus on Arthur._

* * *

><p>"You… you broke into Heaven" Arthur's voice still sounded broken and weak, but his face shows a stunned, unbelieving expression. "You broke into Heaven to save me?" Alfred, who had finally allowed him to sit up, wrapped his arms carefully around the angel's body. He carefully rubbed over Arthur's arms, minding his wounds.<p>

"You saved me first. I just… wish I would've gotten there sooner. Before they... took your wings…" The devil sounded so pitiful, as if it's his fault, but Arthur weakly shook his head. "You saved my life, Alfred. And after all that happened, I wouldn't have wanted to be an angel any longer."

Blue eyes met green ones. Another careful kiss was shared between them. They were both in a horrible state; injured, exhausted, weak – but it didn't matter. They were together.

But Arthur's words were full of another meaning and the black-haired devil looked up from his angel's shoulder. "What does this mean?", he asked.

"It means that I want to be with you. And when it means to become a devil, then be it."

Alfred's hand carefully ghosted over the white bandage he'd wrapped around his angel's chest to cover the wounds from his missing wings. "I will make you one", he whispered softly, before their lips found each other in a living kiss that quickly grew hotter, sinking back against the bed.


	7. December 7th

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**7th of December, 2014**

On the crowded London street, sirens blared and firefighters rushed into the smoky building. I stood with my neighbours under the street lamps as they watched from a safe distance and wondered what they might have lost in the fire.

Truth be told, I should have been wondering the same thing myself. I should have been concerned about the risk to anyone still trapped in the building and the possible damage to my flat. But I wasn't. In my defense, it was rather hard to focus on a measly fire when Alfred F. Jones was half-naked and standing right next to me.

We had met a few times in passing, and I had always thought that the young international student was rather handsome. Now I had to revise my estimate: Alfred was drop-dead gorgeous. With his spectacles askew and his blond hair sticking out at all angles, he looked like he had just emerged from night of wild love-making. And his _abs_. Those abs! Alfred's tanned skin and rock-hard six-pack belonged on the cover of a magazine. Preferably the sort of magazine sold in brown-paper bags.

My gaze drifted lower as I admired the American's taut buttocks. I wasn't surprised to see that he owned American-flag briefs. I wondered if all of his briefs were red, white, and blue. But even the silly nationalism couldn't detract from his perfect arse. I blushed guiltily when I noticed him glancing my way.

"You okay there, Artie?" he asked, his handsomeness mixed with concern.

"I'm fine." I arched an eyebrow and tried to pretend I hadn't been ogling him a moment earlier. "I'm surprised you haven't raced back into the building trying to be a hero."

Alfred pouted, still handsomely. "I did, but they kept kicking me out!"

"Just because you look like a superhero doesn't mean you need to act like one." I nearly clapped a hand over my mouth. Oh crap, I hadn't meant to say that.

He grinned. "You really thinks so?"

I shrugged and tried to keep calm and carry on. "Yes, leave the heroics to people with protective gear and training."

"No, I meant... never mind." He sighed and fell silent. It wasn't until he shivered that I realised the poor lad had to be freezing. I should have noticed sooner; I was _supposed_ to be a gentleman.

"Here," I said as I pulled off my coat and offered it to Alfred. I didn't need it, judging by how warm my cheeks felt. Of course, I knew it would be several sizes too small, but it was better than nothing. My efforts were immediately rewarded with the brilliant grin that crossed Alfred's face.

"Thanks!" He tossed the jacket over his shoulder like a cape. "It took so long to find my glasses I didn't have time to grab anything else," he explained sheepishly.

We watched as the firefighters gave the all-clear. I tried to focus on the building, _honestly_, but my eyes kept drifting back to the shirtless American.

Alfred caught my gaze and grinned. "Hey, Artie. You weren't cooking, were you?"

"Oh, sod off," I grumbled. "I was in bed."

"Yeah, guess I should've known. Those are cute teddy-bear PJs, by the way," he said, chuckling as he pointed at my pyjamas.

I was saved from having to respond as one of the firefighters came over to let us know which flats were safe to reenter and which had to be repaired first. Mine was thankfully safe, but poor Alfred wasn't so lucky. Apparently the electrical wiring in his flat had been badly damaged by the fire. He sighed and I felt the immense need to cheer him up.

"You're welcome to stay with me," I offered, and he cheerfully accepted.

I did it because I was a _gentleman_ and certainly not out of any ulterior motives. The repairs wouldn't last more than a few days, and I was happy to let him use my sofa. Of course, if he preferred to share the bed, well, that also could be arranged...

Needless to say, Alfred F. Jones moved in with me and he never moved out.

* * *

><p><em>For Iggycat<em>


	8. December 8th

**ARTIST: april-cherie-sprinkles (Art is available on the ****_365daysofusuk_**** tumblr.)**

**AUTOR: sage**

**8th of December, 2014 - Insecurity**

"Iggy? Open up!"

Alfred knocked on the Englishman's hotel door, his face carrying an expression of concern. It was Arthur's turn to hold the meeting in his country, and their flight had arrived late. But despite the jet lag that was seriously taking its toll on him, he had something he needed to discuss with his boyfriend.

The door slowly opened, but only just enough so, as it hide the other's face from Alfred. "A…America…? What is it, don't you know how bloody late it is?"

"What's wrong with your voice, dude? You sound weird…" He asked, trying to see through the small crack of the door.

Arthur cleared his throat, though it did nothing to conceal the hoarseness in voice. "Nothing, nothing's wrong. I think I may have caught something, but that's all, don't worry."

He went to close the door, but Alfred grabbed the outside doorknob to keep it in place.

"Wait, there's something I need to talk to you about."

The other hesitated, before opening the door wide enough for the other to see him completely. "Come in."

Alfred wasn't going to lie; The Brit looked like absolute shit. His eyes were red from crying, tears stained his face, and he wasn't meeting the American's gaze, choosing to stare at the floor.

He walked forward, resting a hand on Arthur's shoulder as he lead him over to the bed. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You've been acting weird all day, even on the plane ride over. Please, tell me."

The two sat down on the bed, and Arthur sighed as he looked up into Alfred's caring eyes. Just the expression he was giving him forced a few more tears to spill from his eyes, and he ducked his head back down to hide them from the blond.

"I…I-I'm scared," he muttered, barely loud enough for Alfred to hear.

"What're you scared of?" Alfred asked, wanting to know what it was that could be paining his Arthur.

"I'm scared…o-of you l-leaving me."

It was silent for a moment, but it was broken by a small chuckle from Alfred. He pulled Arthur against his chest and ran a hand through his hair.

"Why the hell would I leave you, Iggy?" he asked softly, his voice laced with comfort.

"Because, I'm too emotionally closed off, and I'm an asshole…and…" Arthur paused to take a few shuddery breaths, before mumbling into his shirt, "I-I'm not good enough….for you…"

The sharp pain that ran through Alfred's heart was almost like a shock; he almost couldn't believe that these words were coming from his lover!

He pulled away from the other, before gently kissing his cheek. "Of course you are. And there's so much that's to love about you, too…" Alfred continued to speak, kissing different spots of Arthur's face in between words.

"You're not emotionally closed off at all, dude. And you are kind of an asshole, but you're a cute asshole, at least. You're adorable, and you listen to really good bands, and you have these stupid freckles that I absolutely love…and your cooking might be questionable, but…"

This earned a small laugh from the Brit, and he returned the sweet smile Alfred gave him, the tears having since stopped.

"And I know you care about me," Alfred said, pressing a soft kiss against Arthur's lips. "I love you, Iggy. Don't you ever think I don't."

The English nation wrapped his arms around Alfred, and pulled the other down towards the bed. He pulled back the blanket and covered them both with it as he snuggled into the American's chest.

"I love you too, Alfred."


	9. December 9th

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**9th of December, 2014**

"I have a wonderful surprise for you today," Elizabeth told the audience as she began the interview portion of her entertainment television show. She gestured to the two blond men seated on either side of her. "With me are the voice actors from Disney's latest film, 'Princes,' which is the heartwarming story of two men who set off to rescue a princess but ended up falling in love with each other instead."

The audience _awwwed_ and clapped. Responding to their approval, one of the voice actors grinned and waved back. He looked exceedingly comfortable and exceedingly handsome in his tight jeans and button-down shirt.

Liz turned to him first. "So, Alfred! Tell us what it's like to voice Prince Gallant."

"It's great, Liz! He's this awesome character who is really strong and loves adventure, but he's kind of naive about how the world works."

"He sounds a bit like you," Elizabeth teased.

"Yeah, I guess so." Alfred laughed and blushed as he rubbed the back of his head.

Unimpressed by Alfred's aw-shucks act, the voice actor on the other side of the stage rolled his eyes. "A dumb jock with a hero complex. Yes, that's him, all right," he muttered, his clothing as stiff and precise as his posture.

The audience tittered in surprise while the host did her best to hide her own dismay. She plastered a bright smile on her face and turned to face the other man. "How about you, Arthur? What can you tell us about your character?"

The man scoffed and crossed his arms. "To be honest, Prince Earnest is a horrible cliche. He's a 'shy bookworm' who speaks softly and is physically useless. So of course they had to give him an English accent."

"At least they didn't give him your eyebrows," Alfred joked.

Elizabeth pressed ahead with her interview. "Now the main news about the story is how the two male protagonists fall in love. Was it awkward to do the romance scenes?"

"Not at all!" Alfred replied, giving her a bright smile. "I was thrilled to have a chance to work on the first Disney film featuring a leading same-sex couple."

"Yes, it's only 2015. I'm glad they got around to it _eventually_," Arthur snarked.

"Geez, Artie. You don't need to give them crap for doing something good."

"They don't get cookies for being decent. And stop calling me that."

"Pfft. Why would they want your cookies, _Artie?_"

"Well, thank you both so much for joining us!" Elizabeth interrupted, nearly shouting to be heard over the two arguing men. "Time for a clip from the film!"

The voice actors were hustled offstage while the audience clapped hesitantly. As soon as they were alone in the green room, Alfred cornered Arthur against the wall. "What the hell was that about?" he demanded. "Did someone piss in your tea?"

Arthur glared back. "My contract obligates me to participate in three publicity events. It doesn't require me to perform them _well_."

"So you're just being an asshole to get them to stop scheduling this stuff?"

"Yes! I have better ways to spend my time!"

They crossed to separate sides of the room. Alfred ignored Arthur in favor of grabbing cookies from the food table, while Arthur prepared a cup of inferior American tea.

Minutes later, Elizabeth joined them in the green room. She shook her head and gave them both puzzled looks. "That was not what I was expecting based on the rumors," she told them as she grabbed a bottle of water for herself.

"What rumors?" Alfred asked.

"Well… they said that the voice acting was really good in the romantic parts for a reason. And people swore that your arguments were just sexual tension."

Arthur snorted. "The voice acting was good because I excel at my career. I think it would be entirely inappropriate to have a relationship with a coworker."

Elizabeth shrugged and gave them both an encouraging smile. "Well, thank you for the ratings boost. I'm not sure what it will do for your publicity tour."

"Shorten it, I hope," Arthur muttered.

Liz laughed as she walked out of the green room and headed for her own changing area.

"Wow," Alfred said, shaking his head as he plopped down onto the sofa. "I can't believe people actually think we're a couple."

"Yes, the whole idea is absurd," Arthur agreed.

"Yeah, totally ridiculous!"

The silence grew long and awkward as they refused to meet each other's gaze.

"But it tends to happen, I'm afraid," Arthur said before taking another sip of his tepid tea. "Some fans can't separate fictional characters from real people. Whenever they see two handsome men, especially two gay men, they just want to pair them together."

Alfred nearly dropped his cookie and started to blush. "You think I'm handsome?"

"I-I was saying that as a hypothetical."

The American's smile widened. "And you don't date coworkers, huh?"

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "That goes without saying."

"Hy-po-thet-ic-ally," Alfred stretched out the word, taking a step for each syllable as he climbed off the couch and walked closer to the Englishman, "If you were attracted to someone on the job…"

"I wouldn't want to do anything while we were still working together."

By that point, Alfred's grin could have replaced all of the stage lights in the studio. "Good thing we won't be coworkers once this publicity tour ends."

"True." A soft smile reached from Arthur's mouth to his eyes. "I will have some extra time on my hands. What would you say to dinner and a movie?"

Elizabeth heard Alfred's shout of pure joy from her dressing room, but by the time she burst into the green room, it was empty. She smiled to herself, pleased that fictional characters weren't the only ones who could find true love.


	10. December 10th

**ARTIST: april-cherie-sprinkles (Art is available on the ****_365daysofusuk_**** tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: irisoflunadreams**

**10th of December, 2014 - Lean on Me**

"Thank you gentlemen I am glad you, well at least one of you, understand. I expect you've learned something from this. And that it won't happen again," the library docent sad, practically ushering them out of the office with a brush of her hands, and closed the door behind them with a quiet, definite click.

"Well, how do you like that," Alfred leaned against the door frame, glaring at the door. His eyes narrowed and when he huffed a sigh his fly-away hair fluttered. "Man, can you believe that old bag?"

Arthur massaged at the bridge of his nose. "Oh, don't call the poor lady such names. That's rude and disrespectful."

"You call me worse all the time."

"You usually deserve it when I do." He grabbed Alfred's arm and pulled him down the hallway toward the exit. His suit and coat left him feeling uncomfortably cold, and their shoes clacking on the tiles drummed on his temples.

"Hey!"

"Do not shout in here, Alfred. This is a library. Now, come on we have to go."

"But, can you believe her?" He spun on his heels, soon to dash back down the stairs in the direction they had come.

"Alfred! Get back here this instant!"

"I'm going to give her supervisor a piece of my mind."

Arthur's head reeled as he grappled for his sleeve to pull him back again, hoping that the man-child would not cause them both to tumble down the steps. "You are going to give no one a piece of your mind. We deserved what we received. And, so, we are going. If we do not, we will miss our train. And, if we do, you will get to explain our tardiness. In detail."

"Wha-a-ah?" Alfred's eyes grew comically wide.

"You heard me. Now come on!" He fought the urge to double-over at the sound of his own voice. "I'm sick of your attitude."

"I'm not the only one with an attitude here, buddy. And, you just look plain sick, by the way."

Arthur blanched, and almost paused in the middle of the road as the crossed a street. Oh, he hopped that he didn't look as sick as he felt. "Oh come off it, you," he grumbled, in weak protest.

"Haha! Though, you always look kinda pale, you know."

He scowled, in no mood to argue further.

"Hey! It's a beautiful day!" Alfred announced as they walked out to the street. "Let's walk!"

He blinked away the glare of the sun. "Must we?"

"Yeah sure. It's not that far. And, it would probably be a lot faster than a taxi anyway. And, you look like you could use some good, fresh air." Alfred's eyes became all round and bright blue, like the sky above them, and warm, unlike the weather.

"Don't look at me like that." He wrapped his coat tighter around him, but to no avail.

"But it will be nice." His eyes whined as much as the inflections of his voice. "I'll get you dinner after the meeting?

"I doubt that, but fine." With hope he wouldn't collapse on the way. He remembered how hilly D.C. was, but could not recall if there were any on the way to Union Station. Still, dinner and someone else's expense might be worth the exhaustion.

He shivered and sweated, huffed and puffed. As it turned out, Alfred was right about the distance. The sights were lovely he had to admit, but would continue to deny in conversation. And, however grand the sights were, they failed to distract him totally from the growing sense of malaise.

Not even settling in their seats on the train with their tea and coffee with time to spare brought Arthur relief. But, at least his raw nerves settled. The faint rhythmic clicking of Alfred's handheld device of choice suddenly seemed soothing and the warmness that constantly radiated from him brought an odd sense of comfort. As the train rumbled to life, he faded into unconsciousness.

000

Startled by the unexpectedly heavy nudge from his travelling companion, Alfred paused his game and dropped it in his messenger bag. "What is it Ar-" He glanced over to see a mass of honey blond hair fill his field of vision and tickle his nose and cheek. "Arthur? Are you asleep?" he nudged back, but received no response. "Yeah, you're definitely asleep." So, grateful anew that he bullied him out of the window seat, he situated them both more comfortably. "And, I think you're sick," he whispered as he shifted Arthur against his chest, and into a more comfortable position.

He sighed. It was going to be a long train ride back to New York City, and it would be unpleasant waking Arthur to make it out of the train station to hunt down a cab. He always was cranky, but even crankier when he was sick. But, Arthur never allowed displays of affection in public. Alfred would take whatever he could get. He was just sorry that one of his only chances when Arthur was sick. Without a glance elsewhere, he sneaked a kiss to Arthur's temple.

Carefully, he dug out his phone from his pocket and shot out a text the first contact who came up in his list. "Meeet on dudes! Wer takin a day of!" He was sure that whoever received that would pass on the word. Arthur could certainly use the time to recuperate.

"You know, you're really cute when you're sleeping."


	11. December 11th

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**11th of December, 2014**

Alfred F. Jones was being transferred to the USS Spontaneity and promoted to their Junior Science Officer. He would spend the next five years exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations, boldly going where no man had gone before.

It was a promotion Alfred had been dreaming out since his days at Starfleet Academy, but the American Science Officer couldn't even pretend to be excited about it. Because whilst _he_ was being transferred, Arthur Kirkland was staying aboard their current ship, the USS Camelot, and Alfred wouldn't see him for at least five years. And that was definitely a problem, considering Alfred had been secretly in love with Arthur since high school, and couldn't imagine life without him.

It would have been so easy to take his secret with him to the USS Spontaneity, and Arthur need never know Alfred had been watching him longingly since they were seventeen years old. But Alfred hated himself for even thinking like that. Arthur deserved to know that he meant the entire universe to someone out there, and even if it meant embarrassing himself when he was so close to escape, Alfred knew it was time. This confession was long overdue.

And it seemed fate thought so, too, because Arthur called him one evening and asked to speak with him before his departure. Before he could chicken out, Alfred invited Arthur to his room, saying he had something to talk about as well.

So here they were, sitting on the sofa by the window in Alfred's room, looking out into glittering space.

"Well, then, Jones, why don't you go first," said Arthur, folding his hands gracefully in his lap and putting on the formal air of the Captain he wished to be one day. "What did you want to tell me?"

Alfred had proven his bravery in all kinds of crises aboard the USS Camelot, but nothing compared to the courage it took for him to lift his head and look Arthur in the eyes. It was the scariest moment of his entire life, and for a moment he wasn't sure he could go through with his confession.

But then his eyes met Arthur's, that deep green gaze more dazzling than any star system the Science Officer had ever seen, and Alfred couldn't let him down.

"I love you. I've loved you since the moment I saw you."

There. It was out. After all these years of keeping them locked away in his mind, the words slipped out so effortlessly, as if they didn't spell the end of his life as he knew it. And soon he was gushing forth words he'd been hiding for nine long years.

"That day you showed up at our high school I'd been hearing your name all morning, and I was _so_ excited to meet you. I wasn't sure why at first, but when I finally saw you outside at lunch and it was like I'd known all along I was born to meet you.

"I was completely swept away by you. And it wasn't just your looks or your sexy accent…It was your _passion_. That infectious fire you were spreading around the school with all your talk of Starfleet, and moving to San Francisco just to be closer to the Academy for entry prep courses. I'd never met anyone like you before.

"See, I'd never had a dream when I was younger. Even in high school I couldn't grasp the idea of the future or figure out what I was supposed to do with my life. I guess I was scared – not knowing what to do or how to make the most of myself. But then _you_ showed up – talking about Starfleet and exploring the universe and making a difference to the human race. And you were so excited about the future and Starfleet Academy that I wanted to be part of it all, too. Suddenly I felt inspired – like I could change the world, like _anything_ was possible! You made me feel as if I had the world at my feet, and I decided I wanted to join Starfleet, too, and be part of something bigger than myself."

Arthur hadn't said anything, but Alfred was sure he knew what the other man must be thinking. If Alfred had felt this way all these years, why had he never said anything? He wasn't normally such a coward, but he had been nothing but shy around Arthur for nine years.

Alfred raked a hand through his hair, desperately, searching for a way to explain that terrible pull that had kept him away from Arthur all these years.

"I wish I could have told you all this when we were still seventeen but I was too scared. I didn't know how to just go up to you and say: 'Hey, I'm Alfred. I think you're perfect, do you wanna go out? By the way, you also inspired me to copy your ambitions for the future so I'm going to Starfleet, too. How about that!' I knew it would make me sound like a total weirdo and I wouldn't have blamed you if were terrified and never wanted to speak to me again! I didn't want you to think I was only joining in Starfleet because I had a crush on you, so I kept away from you for a few days while I tried to figure out what to do.

"And then, before I knew it, it had been a whole week and I hadn't spoken to you at all. Then it was two weeks, and a few more, then a month…And the longer I waited the more awkward it felt to just go up and try to talk to you. It had already been so long I didn't know how to change the way things were, and I didn't want you to think I was joining Starfleet just because I had a crush on you…"

Alfred paused again, realising for the first time that he had been staring at Arthur this entire time, with Arthur's eyes wide and green looking right back. He had been so lost in his thoughts and memories that he had barely been able to see the Englishman right before him.

But now, looking at Arthur clearly again, he felt his heart swell. This confession might lead to nothing but anguish if Arthur turned him away and called him a creep. But it was still the right thing to do. Just thinking about these memories made that passion that Arthur had awoken in him flare up once again, just like it had that afternoon he'd first seen Arthur at school. All these years that fire, that dream of joining Starfleet, his entire future – it had all been a gift Arthur had given him. And it was about time the Englishman knew it.

"You gave me my dream," Alfred concluded. "If it weren't for you, I never would have found my place in this universe, which is right here in Starfleet, so I owe you my entire life, basically.

"But _you_ are my number one dream, Arthur," Alfred vowed, his voice steady and sincere. "You will always come first. I want to be a great Science Officer someday, but you will always be the most important thing in my life. Without you, I wouldn't be here in Starfleet where I'm meant to be. Without you…the universe just isn't as beautiful.

"I know I'm going to the Spontaneity and we won't see each other for a long time – hell, you might never _want_ to see me again at all. But if you ever need me, Arthur, just call. I'll always be here for you. I know I've been a coward and I should have told you all this a long time ago, but it's always been true. I'm just sorry I couldn't be the kind of guy you deserve who could have shown it to you all this time."

A tingling silence settled over the two men, as Arthur kept staring and it finally dawned on Alfred everything he had just confessed. But rather than panic, he felt oddly empty and blank – like the dark space between the stars.

"I'm sorry, I've probably taken up way too much of your time with this dumb stuff," he said, forcing a smile that he hoped didn't look as tense and upset as he felt. "And I completely forgot you came here to say something!" he remembered suddenly. "So what did you want to tell me?"

"…I came here to ask if you would like to continue working on the Camelot as our new Junior Science Officer."

There was another long pause as Alfred worked over the words in his head, taking far too long to grasp what Arthur had just said. He gazed at Arthur blankly, as if caught in a daydream, but even through his dazed confusion something felt off. Arthur looked strange, but why?

And suddenly he realised: Arthur was blushing. The sure, confident, captain-in-the-making was blushing, stammering, and averting his eyes. Alfred had never seen it before, not in nine long years of watching Arthur from afar.

"The choice is up to you, of course," the Englishman said quickly. "I just…wanted you to have the option, rather than being sent away. You've…been a real asset to the Camelot these past five years and I'd hate to see such talent transferred. So I talked it over with the First Officer, and contacted the Spontaneity and Starfleet Command and called in a few favours from my Academy days…and I managed to get permission for you to stay on board. …If you'd like."

Alfred still couldn't manage to open his mouth and say anything. He stared, amazed and somewhat horror-struck, until Arthur finally looked up and met his eyes.

The passion and hope and earnestness in Arthur's gaze took Alfred's breath away. It was a look he recognised, despite never having seen it before.

This was the way he had always looked at Arthur.

"But…" said Arthur, his hand inching towards Alfred's until their fingers brushed together. "What I was really trying to say by all that was…Don't go, Alfred. Please stay here with me."


	12. December 12th

**AUTHOR: sugarchains**

**12th of December, 2014 - Presents!**

[Text from BeatlesLUV]

-come online

[Text from CaptAmeributt]

-I AM online

[Text from BeatlesLUV]

-I don't see you

[Text from CaptAmeributt]

-I'm on my personal stuff WHAT

[Text from BeatlesLUV]

-You don't have a personal one that I don't know about

[Text from CaptAmeributt]

-I do, sorry

[Text from BeatlesLuv]

-Don't be a brat

[Text from CaptAmeributt]

-….69statesofreedom

[Skype contact confirmation: Polar_solstice wants to share contact information with you!]

Polar_solstice: finally

Polar_solstice: were you hiding?

69statesofreedom: I'm supposed to be on VACATION, dude

69statesofreedom: no work allowed

Polar_solstice: I know radio silence when I'm on the receiving end

69statesofreedom: do you really

Polar_solstice: shut up. I just need two things from you

69statesofreedom: what

Polar_solstice: did you notice this screen name

69statesofreedom: yes I'm looking at it

Polar_solstice: as in, did you know that the sun doesn't set on the Poles for almost six months?

69statesofreedom: are you

69statesofreedom: are you making a "sun never set on the british empire" joke?

Polar_solstice: YES

69Sstatesofreedom: I'M SO FUCKING

69statesofreedom: DONE WITH YOU RIGHT NOW

Polar_solstice: I'd call you to laugh, but you already know how I sound

69statesofreedom: are you drinking tea too and knitting

Polar_solstice: of course. Which is my next point

69statesofreedom: WHAT.

Polar_solstice: what do you want me to knit you for Christmas?

69statesofreedom: what? Dude no, you don't have to knit me anything, it's cool

Polar_solstice: don't be an idiot, TELL ME

69statesofreedom: I DON'T CARE DO WHATEVER YOU WANT I'LL LIKE IT NO MATTER WHAT

Polar_solstice: goddammit I will knit you the ugliest thing I can imagine and make you wear it if you don't pick something

69statesofreedom: FREAKING

69statesofreedom: remember Kiku's new show Attack on Titan? Make me one of the Scouting Legion's capes?

69statesofreedom: OR WHATEVER.

Polar_solstice: hnn

Polar_sosltice: I'll need pics of it to do it

69statesofreedom: no measurements or whatever?

Polar_solstice: no I already know your sizes

69statesofreedom: that's.

69statesofreedom: that's TERRFYING.

Polar_solstice: I literally raised you, OF COURSE I KNOW YOUR SIZES

69statesofreedom: ….oh my god don't remind me ok

Polar_solstice: don't be ungrateful

69statesofreedom: whatever

Polar_solstice: are you coming this year?

69statesofreedom: heck yeah I will be

69statesofreedom: and I mean that in the dirty way and yes I'm flying out next week

69statesofreedom: my flights open ended, so you have me for as long as you can stand me

Polar_solstice: so about a day

69statesofreedom: fuck you too

Polar_solstice: when you get here

Polar_solstice: where are you now?

69statesofreedom: at mattie's.

69statesofreedom: I gotta go tho-I promised him I wouldn't be on the computer all day

Polar_solstice: ok

69statesofreedom: ill call you later

69statesofreedom: promise

Polar_solstice: 3

69statesofreedom: DID YOU LESS THAN THREE ME

69statesofreedom: YOU LESS THAN THREE ME

Polar_solstice: GO BE WITH YOUR BROTHER YOU ASS


	13. December 13th

**ARTIST: theconfusedartist (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: Zeplerfer**

**13th of December, 2014 - Slip and Fall**

Walking home on the icy footpath across campus was probably not the best place to be a little tipsy, but Arthur managed to keep his balance as he carefully placed his steps, one foot in front of the other. A few blocks from his flat, he thought he was in the clear, only to have his left foot slip out from underneath him and send him tumbling to the ground.

In the frantic moment as Arthur fought for his balance and lost, he heard steps race up behind him. And instead of hitting the cold, hard ground, he found himself caught from behind by strong arms.

With the stranger's assistance, he climbed to his feet and brushed the snow from his coat. As he turned around to properly thank the stranger, Arthur found himself shocked into silence. The young man who had saved him from a nasty fall was drop-dead gorgeous and he looked oddly familiar.

"My god... Arthur?" the man asked, his blue eyes crinkling in surprised delight.

The Englishman nodded numbly, trying to remember where he could have met such a vision of loveliness. The young man certainly seemed to know _him_, since he didn't hesitate to pull Arthur into a warm hug. Arthur continued to gaze in shock as the tall, blond, and handsome boy next door gave him a broad grin. And thinking of the _boy_ next door made his eyes widen in realization. "...Alfred?"

"You remember!" Aside from the flaxen hair and brilliant smile, he looked almost nothing like the pudgy nine-year-old that Arthur babysat a decade ago. To Arthur's shock, the little boy had grown up _hot_.

"You got..." Arthur began to say as much, before catching himself just in time. "...spectacles."

Alfred laughed and pushed up the wire frames. "Yep, around middle school. I was so bummed my parents had to promise me a vacation to Texas to get me to wear 'em."

"They look nice," Arthur quickly reassured him.

"Thanks! You're looking good too! Those eyebrows haven't change a bit, have they?"

"Well, I _was_ going to invite you in for some hot cocoa," Arthur said, crossing his arms and scrunching his eyebrows together in a playful scowl. "But I think I should leave you out here until you learn some manners."

"Ah, come on!" Alfred said, his pout as adorable as ever. "Is that anyway to treat the hero who rescued you from a nasty fall?"

"I would have been fine," Arthur insisted, but he led the American back to his flat anyway. His apartment didn't have much furniture, so they ended up bumping knees and blushing as they sat together on the loveseat. Over two cups of hot cocoa―plain for Alfred, with rum for Arthur―they caught up on all of the changes in their lives over the past decade. Alfred's family had moved back to America after another work transfer, but Alfred had decided to stay in England, taking advantage of the lower university fees. Meanwhile, Arthur had just started a new job at the university library.

Alfred took another sip of his cocoa and shook his head in amazement. "It's so crazy that we ended up at the same place. I mean, what are the odds?"

"I guess it's a small world after all," Arthur agreed with a chuckle.

"Ah, Iggy, you remember when I played that song on repeat for a week?"

"Don't remind me." Arthur sighed, annoyed at the song and the mispronunciation of his middle name. "And surely you've learned to say Ignatius by now."

"Sorry, but I'm not Shirley."

Groaning to himself, Arthur threw one of the loveseat pillows at Alfred. Hearing the commotion, his roommate gave them both a startled look as he passed through the living room, but he quickly recovered and continued on to the kitchen with a polite nod to Arthur and his guest.

Alfred tracked him closely with his eyes. "He's cute. Is he your boyfriend?"

Arthur sputtered into his drink, wondering if his homosexuality was really that blatant. "No, Kiku's just my flatmate."

He thought Alfred might have murmured 'good' under his breath, but when he looked over at the American, the young man simply gave him an innocent smile.

"So... what do you do for fun around here?"

"Drink, mostly."

"Well, no wonder you were slipping on the ice!" Alfred said with a laugh. He ducked a moment later as Arthur threw the other pillow at his ridiculously handsome face.

Having run out of upholstered ammunition, Arthur returned to his cocoa and tried to hide his happy smile with a disdainful sniff. Despite his efforts, he felt his face grow warm when he glanced at Alfred out of the corner of his eye.

"You know," Arthur said as he set his empty cup down on the table. "I always wondered why your parents stopped calling me over to babysit after those first few months."

"I think that was my fault, actually," Alfred said with a bashful grin. "They were getting concerned when I kept asking for the hot babysitter."

"You..." Arthur's face turned blood red. The sweet American boy he had babysat a decade ago was all grown up, bloody gorgeous, and _flirting_ with him.

Alfred leaned closer. "For the record, I still think you're really hot."

Obviously, it was rather awkward when Alfred (re)introduced Arthur to his parents six months later. But Arthur got over his embarrassment, and he spent the rest of his life very grateful for that day he had slipped on the ice and fallen in love.


	14. December 14th

**ARTIST: owynsama (Art is available on the ****_365daysofusuk_**** tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: qichi**

**14th of December, 2014**

Alfred wakes to the familiar jingle of someone turning keys in the lock. He yawns and stretches, letting the sleep shiver out of his muscles, feeling wonderfully domestic as the front door clicks shut. "Come on upstairs," he says, too warm in his cocoon of blankets to close the distance himself.

"Lazy bastard," comes the reply as Arthur's footsteps draw closer. Mm. For all his complaining and all his gruff he doesn't hesitate to join Alfred, not even for a second. Alfred's come to rely on the certainty of that.

It's stiflingly warm. Between the pleasant comfort of a bed slept in all night and the body heat coming off of Arthur after a morning run-well, they're gonna have to throw the sheets in the wash, for one thing, but it's… it's something good, something Alfred doesn't want to give up on.

After one too many nights spent up late, alone, watching Lifetime movies with a box of tissues and a pint of chocolate ice cream, Arthur wanted to do something about the little pocket of chub he'd developed. Despite Alfred's protests that it was cute. It's part of a routine, now; Arthur comes home smelling like sweat, all slick musk and grime, just around when Alfred stumbles out of bed, usually. Or some days, like today, lazier than most, before he manages to make the effort.

Alfred kisses Arthur's forehead and cards his fingers through his hair, only stopping when Arthur shrugs out of his sweatpants and hoodie-hot, athletic bod aside, November's cold in early mornings. "Love you," he says against his temple, kissing there again, covering Arthur in affection. "What do you want for breakfast?"

The reply he gets out of Arthur is somewhere between 'mmn' and 'rrrngh,' which could be... eggs, maybe, but Alfred doesn't want to risk the wrath of dissatisfied boyfriend, so he plies him with a long, slow smooch and tries again. "Food?"

As Arthur finally manages a reply-eggs, toast, an orange-Alfred grabs the hoodie he'd taken off and pulls it onto himself. It's a little gross-smelly, yeah, but under all that it's the scent of Arthur, the feeling of being all wrapped in his presence. Besides, it'd been his first, USA emblazoned on the front in big white block letters; Arthur had taken to it for its bulk, its warmth and comfort. It's a weird, reciprocal relationship, love played out in laundry.

In the mean time Arthur's shifted over top of the blankets, resting now, his back flush to their piled pillows as he catches his breath and relaxes.

Alfred can't help a show of sentiment. He bends, like a knight swearing loyalty to his lord, and presses lips to the back of Arthur's hand, brushing over his knuckles. "As you wish, sir," he teases.

Arthur _doesn't_ throw a pillow at him, which is a kindness he doesn't usually offer, although he does reach back and grip one threateningly, as if Alfred will scare away. As if. But despite Arthur's exterior, Alfred knows, his need to seem rough and cold and strong, his feelings burn just as high as Alfred's. He loves him. And he's going to want that breakfast.


	15. December 15th

**AUTHOR: lacie-senpai**

**15th of Dcember, 2014 - ****Happy Bill of Rights day, git**

December 15th, today was the day. A day of great success and achievement for his country, for HIM. Today was The United States of America's Bill of Rights day, and Alfred F. Jones was reveling in the glory of himself (well I mean he always does but today was SPECIAL). Tiredly rolling off of his bed he reached for his glasses on his bedside table and pushed them onto his face. "…what time is it love?" Alfred looked at the body next to him and smiled brightly even though the body had the bed sheet over its face and couldn't see it. "its…seven o'clock" The body next to him jolted and struggled to get untangled "seven o'clock?! Alfred! The meeting! You bloody git it's in thirty minutes! Why didn't you wake me up?! Why didn't you wake up?! You're so bloody irresponsible, why can't you just take care of yourself?! I swe-" "Arthur~" England, or the United Kingdom in his all bed headed glory looked at Alfred or the United States of America, who was smirking at him.

"What is it now Alfred? I have to get ready because unlike you I actually CARE about my job" Alfred continued to smirk then grabbed Arthur by the waist, he let out a "manly" squawk as Alfred pulled him back into bed. "Artie, today's a special day~ aren't you going to say happy Bill of Rights Day my wonderful, sexy, smart, and charming boyfriend?" Arthur scowled in Alfred's arms "figures…you'd be so worked up about something stupid like this, over my dead body will I say that now let me go you git!". Alfred let Arthur go with the pout of a four year old "Artie you're so mean to me~!" "I'll stop being mean when you get responsible, now . .Meeting!" Alfred huffed but got up anyways preparing for what was sure to be a "successful" meeting.

It ended up taking Alfred an hour to get ready and Arthur fifteen minutes, and they got to the meeting an hour and a half late. "I formally apologize for delaying the meeting I would also like to state that this incident was entirely America's fault" England stood at the podium in the center of the room with his arms crossed and glaring at his significant other who just grinned back and flashed a thumbs up. "Yeah sorry dudes it was my fault! I should'a been more careful and responsible and all that stuff but hey why don't we forget about that and discuss what's really important?" America jumped out of his seat like a child "Today's BILL OF RIGHTS DAY!" America stood with his hands in the air looking at everyone else as they just stared at him in their seats. Japan stood up slowly "uh… congratulations America-san, but what relevance does this have to do with the meeting?" America dropped his hands and frowned "What significance?" More and more nations began to speak up.

"Yeah, I don't see what's so important about this America in terms of the meting…" "Ve~ Germany what's a Bill Of Rights? Is it a new pasta?!" "hah, stupid fat bastard thinks he sooo much better then us that he can just waltz in here all fucking late and interrupt what if I actually wanted to fucking listen today?! Stupid dumb ass fuck" as more and more Nations put in their input questioning why it was important America began to tear up slightly. "Oh bloody hell, EVERYONE SHUT UP!" England was at the podium still, slightly ticked off about being ignored but even more so about everyone gaining up on America. "Obviously today as we have been told is America's Bill of Rights day, now I know many of us don't give a shit but as fellow nations and members of the international community it is only polite to say congratulations to him, NOT to harass the poor lad on one of his ….anniversaries… despite how irrelevant they may seem." America's face lit up at his boyfriend defending him "oh Iggy 'ya do care!".

"No I don't! Alfred let go of me we are at a meeting! What are yo-? NO PUT ME DOWN! ALFRED F. JONES PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!" America had hugged his boyfriend tightly after addressing him about caring, but the hug had soon turned to him picking England up like a sack of flour and draping him across his right shoulder. "No can do Iggy! We have to go and celebrate this glorious day and occasion!" America looked over his other shoulder that wasn't being attacked by England's fists at the others. "Hey guys.. I know you don't really care to much about today but I mean…. It'd be weird to just celebrate with me and Iggy so… do you guys 'wanna come with us?"

Silence went through the meeting room as nations debated this until Prussia shouted from under the table (he'd snuck in) "Hell yeah a party! I don't know about you guys but I'M AWESOME enough to know a good party in the making when it is, I'm in Burger man!". America grinned at Prussia and cocked his head "anyone else?". Soon everyone else shrugged mumbling excuses such as "they needed a break" "its not like they had anything better to do" but soon everyone Nation was on it's way to a local pub Canada had recommended. When they got there the Nations filed in one by one with America going in last only to be greated with a big "SURPRISE!".

America stared at the scene in front of him, the other Nations were there standing with smiles (or in some cases friendly grimaces) surrounded by red, white, and blue and numerous "American" decorations and food. "WOAH! Dudes did you do this for me?!" Canada shook his head "no, it was all England's idea….he figured you'd want to celebrate like every year and all but he also thought it'd be nice if more people than just him and I were there.". America looked down at his boyfriend, who was blushing furiously while looking away.

America smiled warmly at him before putting him down, "Thank you Arthur, I really really appreciate it, and I love it… not as much as I love you of course but I still love it, thank you". America pressed his lips to England's, who reciprocated quickly weaving his arms around his lover. When they pulled away the other nations had dispersed around and were chatting and munching on food and America had a dopey smile on his face. "You lovable git…" America's smile widened and he just pecked England on the cheek "I love you to Arthur".


	16. December 16th

**ARTIST: april-cherie-sprinkles (Art is available on the ****_365daysofusuk_**** tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**16th of December, 2014**

Alfred sometimes forgot how great a friend Toris really was. They hadn't seen each other much since high school, but even now, a few years out of university, Toris still thought of Alfred and called him up out of the blue when he knew he could be of help.

"You are literally a saint, Toris!" Alfred beamed down the phone as he tapped away at his Macbook, hurriedly opening up his résumé and cover letter template. "I can't believe you remembered I'm looking for a job!"

"_It's really nothing, Alfred_," Toris replied modestly on the end of the line. "_I'm just glad I could help._"

Typical Toris, Alfred smiled to himself as he put his phone on speaker and set it on the table by his laptop.

"So why did this woman leave her job so suddenly?" he asked. "You say she just quit _today_ and they want someone to replace her by _Friday_? That's kind of insane, right?"

"_I know, Feliks was very excited about it, I can tell you_," Toris agreed. "_Apparently this lady was supposed to return from a holiday in Austria last week, but she never came in to work on Monday. They finally received an email at the office today and it turns out her soul mate watch fell off when she met this local man at a museum, and she decided to stay in Austria _permanently_! Her boss – well, ex-boss now – sounds like he's a bit high-maintenance and says he wants a new assistant instantly because he doesn't have time to waste on interviews. It's a very reputable company, and their roles always fill up in no time because people keep track of any openings. I'm glad I could give you a heads up on the opening, but you may still have quite a few people vying for the job._"

"Hey, I'm not scared of a little competition," Alfred smirked, ever sure of himself. "I'm sure I'll get an interview at least, and then there's no stopping me!"

Toris laughed at his friend's endearing confidence, and the two friends chatted for a while longer as Alfred finished tweaking his résumé. But there wasn't much else to add, and finally there was nothing left to do but click "send" and wait.

Alfred pottered around his little kitchen for the rest of the evening making a humble meal of bacon-double cheeseburgers (he was a confident man, but he still needed comfort food when it came to job applications). He glanced back at his computer on the table every now and then to check for new mail, even though he was sure they wouldn't really message him back so soon. Sure, maybe they were in a hurry to fill the position, like Toris had heard, but they couldn't really be planning interviews for _tomorrow _with a start date of the day _after_.

But around 10:30 that night, a new message actually appeared in Alfred's inbox reading something like:

_Dear Mr. Jones,_

_Thank you for your application. We would like to offer you an interview at 5 p.m. tomorrow_

_Yadda yadda yadda_

Alfred didn't really get much more than that from the message, because a very peculiar thing happened as he first scanned the message.

His soul mate watch fell off.

He stared at it in his lap for a good hundred-and-twenty seconds of deep, uncomprehending silence.

And then it hit him.

Whoever sent this email was his soul mate.

He'd always known this moment would happen. Everyone did. What with the clock counting down on everyone's wrist, it wasn't really a _surprise_.

But somehow it was still the biggest shock of Alfred's life, and suddenly adrenaline was racing through his veins, his blood pounding almost deafeningly in his ears.

It took Alfred far too long to check the end of the message for a name, but of course it was simply signed "_From the Office of Arthur Kirkland._"

He knew that was the boss's name, but bosses didn't write these recruitment emails. So who was the office assistant or HR rep who'd written the email!

Alfred replied to the email saying simply "_Thank you for this opportunity etc., etc., etc._" because he wanted to remain professional. He still needed that job after all, especially if his soul mate was working there!

Wouldn't that be awesome! They could get to know each other slowly during the day, eventually fall in love, and it wouldn't feel as forced as this whole "soul mate" pressure sometimes did.

Besides: office romances! That was sexy as hell, and as nervous as Alfred was, he couldn't help falling asleep with the image of a sexy secretary strolling through his mind, all high heels and pencil-skirts and thick-framed glasses, and a bun that she would let down to reveal gorgeous flowing hair.

Of course, that was just Hollywood (and maaaaybe a bit of porn) messing with his brain. But whoever this girl was, Alfred couldn't wait to meet her.

* * *

><p>Alfred arrived early at his interview the next day. Of course, he would have been early <em>anyway<em>, because that was how these things go, but on this occasion he was particularly timely.

Because he was on a quest.

"Mr. Jones! We weren't expecting you for a good…hour or so," said the receptionist when he arrived. "There are lots of great coffee shops nearby, would you like me to recommend somewhere for you to wait before your interview?"

"No, thanks," Alfred replied, giving her a winning smile that instantly had her smiling back in compliance. "I was actually wondering if you could help me with something. You wouldn't happen to know who sent me my email yesterday, would you?"

The receptionist frowned in confusion, but remained professional and chose not to pry. "Well, usually something like that would be handled by one of our Recruitment Officers in HR. But since it was all so last minute, Mr. Kirkland was dealing with the recruitment himself this time. He even stayed late last night going through résumés so he could do all the interviews today and get a new person in by tomorrow. HR wasn't very happy, I can tell you."

A minute of silence dragged on as Alfred stared at her, his easy-going smile stuck on his face although his brain was slowly grinding to a halt.

And then it started up again in panic mode.

"Uh…ah…Mr. _Kirkland_? Like…_Mr…._Kirkland? As in, uh…a…a gay…I mean! Uh! A guy?"

The receptionist quirked an eyebrow at the odd display as Alfred stammered and wrung his hands and hopped from foot to foot in front of her desk.

"Um…yes? As in the Mr. Kirkland who will be interviewing you today. The man who would be your boss if you got the position."

Alfred's heart fell all the way to the soles of his feet and his face must have reflected that because the receptionist suddenly looked worried.

"Are you alright, Mr. Jones? Is there some sort of problem with – "

"No!" Alfred exclaimed quickly, and far too loudly judging by the glances he received from other people in the lobby. "Um, I was just…_surprised_, you know? That the boss would be sending these kinds of emails? Like you said, that's not usually his job."

The receptionist nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced but deciding she wanted nothing more to do with this strange conversation.

"Right. Well, as I say, you may want to go and wait in the Starbucks round the corner until about 4:45. See you later."

Starbucks sounded like a great idea to Alfred. Sure, coffee wasn't technically all that calming on the body, but with a comforting hot drink to warm his hands and a sweet, sugary, familiar taste on his tongue, Alfred found he could finally breathe. And after a few minutes of sitting and staring unseeingly at the bustle of the coffee shop queue, his brain seemed to catch up with everything that was happening.

Alfred's soul mate was…a man.

_So you're gay, _Alfred told himself.

_**I'm**_ _gay._

He had all the evidence before him as he looked down at his stopped soul mate clock in his palm, but he still couldn't quite wrap his head around it. It felt like he was talking about someone else, because he'd never been interested in men before and he couldn't fathom any other life. He wasn't angry or anything just…completely confused.

He realised suddenly that Mr. Kirkland had probably only called him in for an interview to talk about the whole soul mate issue. He couldn't exactly hire someone he intended to be his future partner – that would be an unethical – so Alfred was probably just here for a personal chat, rather than a formal interview.

But despite losing out an interview for a great job, Alfred couldn't really feel disappointed. Sure, he was completely confused and a little disbelieving of the whole thing, but meeting a man who might turn out to be his soul mate was a whole lot more important than some old job interview. And even though he would still be unemployed and now had a new revelation about his sexuality to wrap his head around on top of everything else, Alfred couldn't help but feel excited for the future that awaited him.


	17. December 17th

**AUTHOR: corey5268**

**17th of December, 2014**

A little bit of moonlight spilled through the window into the kitchen where Arthur, Alfred, and Mrs. Jones were waiting in the dark. Alfred stood near the menorah, turning the wheel on the lighter with a little too much force.

"Why isn't it working?" He mumbled, switching the lighter to the other hand. He turned the wheel again and pulled the trigger. From off to the side, Arthur could see the reflection of the flame in Alfred's glasses, and the smile on his face. Mrs. Jones looked on with a grin. Alfred brought the lighter to the center candle. Once it was lit, he put the lighter on the counter, and picked up the candle. Quietly, Alfred and Mrs. Jones began chanting.

"Baruch atah Adonai, Elohenu, melech ha'olam," Alfred lit the candle on the far right, and then the one candle to its left. "Asher kidishanu b'mitz'votav v'tzivanu l'had'lik neir shel Hanukah." Alfred replaced the center candle before being swept up into a bear hug by his mother.

"Happy Hanukah, Al." She said. Alfred held tightly, and buried his face in her shoulder.

"You too, Mom. I missed you." He mumbled. "Sorry we missed the first night."

"It's not your fault that your flight was canceled. It's just good to see you." Arthur leaned on the counter in silence, not wanting to interrupt the moment. Mrs. Jones, however, had other plans. She lifted her head, and looked Arthur dead in the eye. He barely had time to process her sly grin –the same as her son's– before she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him in. Arthur got half-sandwiched between the two Joneses, until the candles had melted down to nothing.


	18. December 18th

**AUTHOR: emeraldbluexx**

**18th of December, 2014 - Paint It Perfect**

If anyone asked him why he started, he'd lie. He'd never be able to admit he started the hobby because of a suggestion from _Francis_, of all people. It was absolutely ridiculous that he, _Arthur Kirkland_ would take advice from French frog Francis Bonnefoy so he'll lie about it for all eternity, until he was old and rolling inside his grave, cursing the newer generation for one reason or another.

Besides, it was such a French hobby to take up, he was still embarrassed for actually listening to him. But, he couldn't deny it was fun and it certainly helped him relieve some stress so that was a bonus, he supposed. After all, who said someone majoring in English Literature couldn't take up painting?

He was rather reluctant when he first started and he was wondering _why the bloody Hell am I doing this? Especially since that French frog suggested this_ the whole time. But, once he started, sketch freshly drawn on the canvas he suddenly forgot why he shouldn't be doing it and started.

The first picture he had painted in his life was of 'imaginary creatures' as some called them. Arthur, having been born with the Sight knew otherwise but when he tried to say that yes, unicorns existed and yes, of course he had seen one, he almost ended up stuck in an asylum so he stopped. That didn't mean he couldn't paint them however, and that was how he ended up taking out his frustration at the world on a simple canvas, drawing a beautiful night with a full moon in the background, his friend Unicorn drinking out of a lake and Flying Mint Bunny cheerfully waving from inside the picture. Or as close as he could get him to look like he was waving, anyway.

There had been countless other paintings after that one and he had improved greatly over time, each painting better than the other until finally, he created a masterpiece.

He wasn't sure what made him want to draw this particular painting. He just set up his acryl paint and was struck with inspiration. His hands moved like they were on autopilot; they drew each line perfectly, every muscle and fold flawless. Francis had prompted him to draw his 'perfect person' and that's just what he had done.

At first, he had been a bit surprised because, well, the person he was drawing was _male_ but then again, he guessed it wasn't that surprising considering he had been questioning his own sexuality for a while now and this could probably confirm it. His hair was short, trimmed neatly so it didn't fall beyond the nape of his neck and it shone beautifully in the sunlight streaming from the sun he had painted behind the ash blond. His complexion wasn't pale but it wasn't dark either, cheekbones tinted with just the tiniest bit of red. A bright grin stretched across his face, so wide it made the man on the painting close his eyes (blue, Arthur thought fondly. They were a wonderful blue) but he ended up changing that so the painting man was winking, a blue orb shining with the happiness and love he was sure they would've shone with if he was alive.

He didn't go all out on the clothing, only a simple brown bomber jacket over a white T-shirt with 'I'M THE HERO!' printed on it. The background was fairly rushed as well, a lake three times the shade of the bright blue eyes somewhere behind him. The man was waving, just like

Flying Mint Bunny was on his first painting.

It was truly a masterpiece, especially the lovely face.

It was too lovely even because, as soon as he had finished, a sense of longing washed over him and it made him extend a hand to brush his thumb against the dry colour of his face right under his eyelid, begging him to move as he stared at his vibrant blue eyes, that reminded him of the sky.

He never did.

How foolish he was, getting so attached to a painting but...something about it just seemed real-too real, even. Like it might move any second now, grin tugging just so and softening to a sincere smile...

He really was desperate, wasn't he?

He forgot all about the painting, tried to bury its memory in the deepest place he could. He could never bring himself to throw it away however and he kept it in his attic, never to be taken out again lest he tries to do anything embarrassing, like cry out of sheer frustration of _why the bloody Hell wasn't it real_?

That was, until five or so years later, a new Fae transferred to the school he was working at, as the new History teacher, with blinding smiles and eyes as blue and pure as the sky itself and-

His name was Alfred. He was 110% American (really, you couldn't get more American than the Fae) and looked 200% like the Fae he had drawn all those years back, bringing back the longing, wish for something he could never have. How many times he wanted to hold him, to kiss him and tell him _he knew he was a Fae_ yet he couldn't.

He couldn't until one day everything just spilled out of his mouth, every single secret and _oh God, did Alfred just say he liked him back?!_

Now, three years after that and Arthur still couldn't say he loved anyone more than he did this Fae and the golden ring was just further proof of that.


	19. December 19th

**ARTIST: braginski-ivan (Art is available on the **_**365daysofusuk**_** tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: SeeCarRun**

**19th of December, 2014 - Skate With Me**

"I still can't believe you can't ice skate!"

"I never said I _can't _skate, I said I _don't _skate! There is a big difference!"

But America wasn't listening, far too busy pulling England down the street to the nearest ice rink to listen to anything he had to say. "This is so hella weird! Like, you've had tons of awesome figure skaters, and your hockey team– uh, they won a gold once in the 30's I think..." He crinkled his nose. "Well, you raised Canada and me at least. That's gotta mean something."

"Now you wait just a moment!" England exclaimed, fuming. "Just because you've done a bit better than me at the Olympics doesn't mean anything!"

"Dude, I _cream_ you at the Olympics," America chuckled. "Let's be honest here. Ah! Here we are!"

England paused his glaring long enough to take in the sight of the beautiful Rockerfeller Center ice rink before him. Despite being here many times before, the sight of it in the winter was always enough to take his breath away, as extravagant and showy and _American_ as it was.

The big tree was lit brilliantly above the golden statue standing out against the cold night sky, as the smaller trees around it surrounded the whole rink with a warm glow. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his own flag among the others up above, and suppressed a blush to see it was actually next to one of America's own.

The sight was so beautiful, he almost didn't notice the most peculiar thing about it all. "Where is everyone?" he asked, finally noticing the rink was totally and completely empty.

America shrugged easily, and if England didn't know any better, blushed lightly across his nose. "I rented the place out for the night," he explained. "You know, so I could teach you to skate. C'mon, let's get some skates!"

"I bloody _know_ how to skate, you twit!" England grumbled, but followed him to the rental area anyway.

O

"S-slow down!"

America smiled that stupid smirk over his shoulder as England slowly inched forward on shaky legs. "Hm? What was that? I couldn't hear you!" he sang.

England shot America his dirtiest look, and America chuckled and gave in, turning around so he could skate backwards.

"Better?"

"Hardly," England huffed and bit his lip. "It's just... been quite a while, is all."

"Well, ya look good." His eyes got wide. "I-I mean your skating looks good! You know, for someone who hasn't skated in a while!"

England narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Right."

They skated for a while, America going backwards so he could continue conversation, as well as be an insufferable show off. At one point, England hit a groove in the ice and almost tumbled, but America managed to grab him.

"Whoa there!" he laughed, catching him into his chest. England blushed, pushing himself off America's chest with his hand and clearing his throat. America smiled fondly and grabbed his hand.

England's eyes widened. "Wha-?"

"We'll skate like this for a while," America said with a grin. "Makes it easier to help you."

"I don't need your help," England growled, but didn't argue. As much as he hated to admit it, skating this was did make it a bit easier. Even if his heart was beating about five times faster every moment America held his hand.

Minor detail.

After a while, a jazzy, swingy rendition of Jingle Bells started wafting through the speakers, prompting America to begin wiggling along to the song, in what England could only assume was supposed to be dancing. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked, smiling a little in amusement.

America just grinned, "_Oh what fun it is to ride, In a one horse open sleigh_!"

"You really are a horrible singer, lad," he chuckled. "Why, I think– _Ah!" _England blanched as America started including him in on his little dancing.

"_Now the ground is white_," he sang, making twisting motions with England's arms. "_Go it while you're young! Take the girls out tonight..._" He grabbed England and pulled him closer before dipping him. "_And sing this sleighing song!"_

"_America!"_ England cried, his knuckles white as he held tightly onto America's sleeves and his face a fluorescent red. "Stop that this instant!"

America laughed heartily, setting England back upright once again. "Sorry Eng, I had too! You're just too cute!" England blinked a few times, waiting for the snide comment, or America to correct himself, but it never came. He just grinned down at England excitedly. "Let's race over to the tree!"

Huh. England thought, as America took off across the empty rink. Apparently he didn't realize what he said.

England allowed himself an indulgent little smile, before taking off after America, still a little wobbly, but much more confident than before.


	20. December 20th

**AUTHOR: Maybell Lyric**

**20th of December, 2014**

Mathew was lost. Seriously, hopelessly lost.

After he had finished browsing the souvenir shops of central London, he tried to return to his hotel but couldn't find it. He retraced his steps over and over again, but only ended up walking in circles.

_Great, it's only my first day in London and I'm already getting lost. I'd better go ask for directions._

It was getting late, and not many people were outside. A couple of tough-looking guys were sitting on the steps to a building and didn't look like they wanted to talk. A group of middle-aged women were too engrossed in conversation to notice him as they walked by. After a while, he spotted a pair of Asians walking ahead of him. He trailed behind them, not wanting to approach them too quickly but not wanting to lose them either. They walked into a building, and he followed them.

It turned out to be a small hotel. For a moment Matthew considered asking the receptionist for directions, but as soon as he stepped inside, a group of people hanging around the counter turned to look at him with stern stares. Wringing his hands, Matthew turned and hurried after the pair of Asians as they swiped in through a door. But they were soon far ahead of him, and he figured it'd be better to give up chasing them and ask the receptionist for help after all.

Matthew made his way back into the reception room. Ignoring the stares he was receiving, he tried to make eye contact with the receptionist alone. "Excuse me," he said weakly.

The man behind the reception desk glanced up at Matthew with piercing green eyes. Swallowing his nervousness, Matthew spoke a little louder. "Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the…"

"Are you staying here?" the green-eyed man interrupted him.

"Well. no. Actually I'm from a different hotel, and I…"

"If you're not staying here, what were you doing in there? I saw you come out of there." The man indicated the door in the side of the room.

"I was actually trying to…"

"Did you take anything?"

"What? No!"

The green-eyed man had made his way around the reception desk and was now confronting Matthew in a one-on-one battle-like formation while onlookers continued to stare. The man's stance radiated pure hostility. Matthew took an unconscious step back.

"Let me see your identification."

"Uh, okay, here's my passport." Matthew pulled out a passport and nervously handed it to the man, who opened it up and placed it under a scanner.

When he was done, the man handed it back and said, "If anyone reports anything missing, I'll be investigating you. You can't waltz into places where you don't belong. You can't do it in England, and you can't do it in America. In fact, you'd be shot if you did that in America."

_That's not true! Or at least I hope it isn't,_ Matthew thought, and he realized too late that he had given the man Alfred's passport by accident. "I'm sorry," he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Get out and don't come back."

"Eh?"

"Go now, before I call the police."

"Uh, okay."

And Matthew rigidly walked back outside, wandering around dazedly for a while before he finally stumbled upon his hotel.

* * *

><p>Alfred's first impulse after hearing what happened was to go back there and give the receptionist a piece of his mind. Matthew spent over two hours trying to talk him out of it.<p>

"It wasn't his fault," said Matthew. "I did something stupid and he was only doing his job."

"He had no right to treat you like that!" Alfred shouted angrily. "You want to just leave it like this? Pretend it never happened and move on?"

"Yes," Matthew said simply.

"Dude, I can't believe we're related."

Then Matthew had an idea. "You know, there _is_ something you can do to make me feel better about myself…"

* * *

><p>The next day, Alfred determinedly walked over to the small hotel from before and strolled straight up to the reception desk.<p>

The man behind the desk had ridiculously messy blonde hair and bushy eyebrows. Plus, he was actually shorter than Alfred, which meant that he was shorter than Matthew too. This guy wasn't half as scary as Matthew made him out to be, Alfred thought.

The man looked up to greet his guest, but scowled when he saw whom it was. "You! I told you not to come back," he said.

Alfred's expression was blank as he contemplated what he was about to do. Then, from behind his back, he produced a bouquet of flowers and held it out at arm's length. Breaking into a wide smile, he said, "Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I was actually trying to ask somebody for directions, but I wasn't really thinking straight when I followed them into your hotel. It was stupid, I know, and you were right to chew me out for it. It won't happen again, so will you forgive me?"

The man stared at the bouquet silently for a second. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No no! I actually really am sorry."

"I'm not taking your picture out of the records, if that's what you're aiming for."

"That's fine, I wasn't expecting you to."

There was another moment of silence. Slowly, carefully, the man accepted the bouquet. A trace of a smile appeared on his lips. "You're a peculiar sort of fellow. What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?"

For a moment Alfred considered saying his brother's name, when he remembered whose passport had been put in the records. "Alfred," he said. "And yours?"

"Arthur."

* * *

><p>"How'd it go?" Matthew asked after Alfred got back.<p>

"Pretty good," Alfred said. "Actually, pretty great. You see, one thing led to another, and now I have a date…"

* * *

><p>AN: Partially based on a true story. Everything that happened to Matthew in the beginning happened to me while I was in London. I was slightly traumatized because I wasn't used to this sort of treatment, but putting it in writing and adding some USUK makes me feel a whole lot better.


	21. December 21st

**AUTHOR: towerofart**

**21st of December, 2014 - The Perfect Tree**

"What about this tree, Artie?" Alfred asked, standing next to one of the taller pine trees in the supermarket parking lot.

England had only just been able to clear his schedule two days before and had been able to use the plane tickets he'd bought last spring—they'd learned early on during the start of commercial flying that Christmas tickets were to be bought at least six months in advanced if one wanted a seat. It was currently December 23rd, only two days before Christmas. America had put off getting a tree until now so that he and his boyfriend could pick one together, but so far neither could agree on anything. It had already been ten minutes and the weather was only getting colder.

The British gentleman turned from where he'd been admiring a little quaint tree and frowned at the other. "Absolutely not!"

"Aw, why not?" Alfred whined.

"For starters, we wouldn't be able to get the bloody thing through the doorway. I'm not cleaning up after it either. I'm sorry Alfred, but it's too big."

America gave a _hmph!_ and trudged back to England, who pointed out the tree he'd been previously looking at. "What about this one? It's small, but I'm sure it'll look nice next to the windows in the living room."

The American continued to pout. "Too little."

"Ok," England said as he walked on down the row, "What about that one? It's taller."

"Too skinny."

"This one?"

"No. It looks like a pear."

"Fine then. What about this one here? It's perfectly normal."

"...I don't like it."

"Well, which one do you want!" England shouted a bit too loudly, his temper rising.

A brown haired lady in a warm parka walked over to the couple. "Is everything all right here?"

Alfred didn't answer. Instead he folded his arms and quietly moped in England's direction.

"Sorry, we're having a spot of trouble finding the right tree." Arthur sighed and looked apologetically at the woman.

She gave the Brit a knowing look and gestured to them to follow her. "Come on. I think I know the perfect tree for you two."

The three of them walked down to the end of the row of trees and started walking down a row over. "I'm surprised no one's snatched it up until now. You boys are in luck."

They stopped in front of a deep green pine with full branches. The tree stood a foot taller than Alfred and appeared proud. It looked like something someone would see in a Hallmark film.

"I like it. What do you think Alfred?" England turned to the other and asked.

"...I guess its ok." America relented, still trying to hold on to his grouchy mood.

After they had tied the tree to Alfred's car and paid for it, the two headed back home with their new Christmas tree. It was half way home when Arthur remembered something.

"You know that lady looked strikingly familiar," he said.

Alfred quit humming to the Christmas carol they had playing and glanced at his boyfriend before looking back to the road. "Really? I thought she looked kinda familiar too."

Then it dawned on England, who turned to look at America with wide eyes just as the other looked to him.

"No..."

"It couldn't be..."

"Oh, but it was."

* * *

><p>Sitting in a small café with a warm cup of hot chocolate was a brown haired Hungarian woman. She sipped her drink and smiled at the snow falling outside.<p>

"I hope you boys have a Merry Christmas."


	22. December 22nd

**ARTIST: gelatokitty (Art is available on the ****_365daysofusuk_**** tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: Crowley's Queen**

**22nd of December, 2014 - Gingerbread Kisses**

Alfred was not prepared for the sight that greeted him when he got home that afternoon. He had spent all morning battling other shoppers looking for a few more gifts to bestow upon his friends for the upcoming holiday. Then he had spent an extra half an hour driving in the steadily worsening snow that had begun while he was browsing the local shops. He had expected to come home and find Arthur curled up on the couch with some tea and the fire blazing, but when he stepped through the door, his British boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. There were, however, noises coming from the kitchen and a lingering smell of smoke in the air.

'That can't be good,' Alfred thought, smiling a bit as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them on the floor.

Arthur was a determined cook, however he wasn't very good. Everything he cooked was edible, it was just usually _off _somehow. Too many spices, slightly underdone, slightly _overdone_. For the most part, Alfred didn't mind—if cooking made Artie happy then Al was happy. He just wished that his gorgeous Arthur would pay a little more attention when he indulged in his 'culinary masterpieces.' Shaking his head in anticipation to what he suspected he would find in the kitchen, Alfred set his bags down and moved farther into the house, tracking snow from his boots on the hardwood floors. Peeking around the corner, his mouth dropped a bit at the scene before him.

The entire kitchen was a disaster zone, with almost every inch of counter space covered with dirty bowls, spoons, measuring cups and every ingredient for baking cookies known to humankind. The kitchen island was piled high with 'finished product,' some of which looked quite delicious even if they were outnumbered by the ones burnt beyond recognition. There were enough cookies to feed a small country; and Alfred's proper blonde Brit was standing smack in the middle of the entire mess.

Realizing that he was no longer alone, Arthur turned to face his boyfriend with a sheepish look on his face. "Hello love," he ducked his head slightly, his cheeks going a pretty pink. "I didn't know you'd be home this early."

Taking in the scene before him, Alfred burst into laughter. Arthur's usually immaculate clothes were covered in streaks of flour, there was something that looked like egg shells in his hair, and he was randomly splattered with cookie batter.

"What in the world are you doing?" Alfred took a step towards his adorable Englishman.

Patting his own cheek absently, Arthur looked around the room, blinking rapidly as if noticing for the first time what a huge mess he had made. "I was just trying to get the biscuits done before you got home."

"Why?" Alfred smiled. "You know I like making cookies—it's one of my favorite parts of the holidays. You didn't have to do it by yourself."

"It was a surprise," Arthur hung his head a bit. "I wanted to make all the kinds you like."

Alfred chuckled, "Well then you're gonna be here 'til New Years cause I like about a thousand different kinds."

Arthur grinned, reached out with the wooden spoon he was holding and swung it toward Alfred saying "You git!" Alfred nimbly jumped back, avoiding the spoon and snatching it out of his lover's hand in one motion. Laughing as he took the large wooden spoon from the Brit, Alfred placed most of it in his mouth, licking off the large amount of batter clinging to the utensil.

"Stop that!" Arthur tried to grab the spoon back. "You can't just lick it off you know—that is very unsanitary! Now I can't use this spoon again—no one wants your germs!"

"Honey," Alfred smiled, his mouth still full of cookie dough. "No one is going to eat these things. They're terrible—and I know you don't mind my germs." The tall American winked at his sputtering, red-faced partner. Taking a step towards his lover, Alfred reached up to cup the shorter man's cheeks. He leaned down to press a soft, sweet kiss on Arthur's lips and pulled back smiling saying, "You taste like gingerbread."

"Well," Arthur smiled, "I had to taste them you know—that's what those cooking shows all say."

"Uh huh," Alfred grinned and leaned in for one more kiss. "You just wanted all the delicious dough for yourself—I see how it is, old man." The American wiped a small streak of batter off of the Brit's cheek and grinned. His boyfriend was adorable—so determined to be amazing in the kitchen. The Englishman was amazing in other rooms of the house, and in Alfred's mind, that was more than enough—they could always order takeout or buy cookies from the store. Alfred figured it was a lost cause, but he would indulge his lover for as long as Arthur wanted.

Grabbing one of the more burnt cookies from the pile on the island, Alfred popped it in his mouth, taking care not to grimace at the taste of ash. Grabbing a spatula off of the counter and waving it next to his face he smiled at Arthur and said "Can I help?"

Arthur beamed and blushed a bit deeper before saying "Of course love." He handed Alfred some frosting and pointed to the pile of blackened baked goods. "We can decorate the sugar cutouts for now."

As Alfred set to work, attempting to make the burnt cookies at least look delectable, Arthur simply watched him with a huge smile spreading across his face. Sliding up behind the taller blonde, Arthur slipped his arms around Alfred's waist and gave him a quick kiss on the back of his neck and whispered, "Thank you love."

Turning to wrap his free hand around Arthur's shoulders while still using his left to spread frosting, Alfred tucked his boyfriend underneath his arm and asked, "For what?"

"You never tell me to stop," Arthur nestled his head against the American's firm chest. "You never tell me to give up."

Pressing a firm kiss to Arthur's messy hair, Alfred tilted the Brit's chin up so that he could look into his eyes. "That's cause I don't want you to," he stated.

Both men smiled and wrapped their arms around each other, all baking forgotten as they shared a deep kiss.

"Merry Christmas Artie."

"Happy Christmas Alfred."


	23. December 23rd

**AUTHOR: The-Literalist **

**23rd of December, 2014 - A True Taste of Freedom**

Being outside was Alfred's favorite thing in the whole world. The bright sun, the thrill of adventure, the life above him and below him; it all made him so happy. He especially loved to play with the neighborhood kids, whether it was tag or hide and seek or nerf gun fights. As a 10 year old boy, there was no where Alfred would rather be than outside.

One day, while him and the other children were passing a football around in the middle of the empty street, he glanced up quickly as something caught his eye. It was from an old fashioned looking house, a curtain had fluttered on a second floor window. After waiting a few seconds and not seeing any other movement coming from the window, he shrugged and threw the football to his friend, Gilbert. Due to his short attention span, he quickly forgot that he had seen a glimpse of green eyes from behind the curtains before they closed.

A week later, Alfred was in his front yard rolling around and spreading his fingers through the grass beneath him, he would never get tired of the soft feeling of freedom. As he sat up, he looked at the old fashioned house diagonally across the street. Sometimes he saw adults going in and out of the house, but they never really talked to anyone. The people that lived there had moved in over a year ago, and since the people seemed really unsocial, Alfred felt too intimidated to introduce himself. It was kind of sad, the rest of his neighborhood was so close, but there was an intangible aura of darkness surrounding that old fashioned house that separated that family from the close-knit community around them. Alfred decided to stop the sad thoughts, he preferred to think of happy things anyway.

One month passed since Alfred had let his thoughts wander to the unsocial family. Today he had been playing across the street on his friend Toris's trampoline. He loved jumping on trampolines because he could pretend he was soaring through the endless sky, sprouting powerful wings like a bird and tasting freedom in the air. He smiled into the sunlight as he relived that feeling. As he crossed the road to head back to his own house, he suddenly felt compelled to look up at the old fashioned house, and when he did, he definitely saw a young boy looking at him in the window. Green eyes widened from behind the glass as the curtains shut quickly, effectively shutting the green eyed boy into darkness.

Alfred stopped walking and kept his eyes trained on the window, checking for any more movement behind the curtains, but after at least 30 seconds passed, he realized the green eyed boy was not going to open them up again. Curiosity peaked, Alfred made his way over to the old fashioned house and knocked loudly on the door. With a quick look to his right, he was able to tell that the adults weren't home, if the absence of cars gave any indication. He waited a while and pressed his ear to the door, but still did not hear any sound coming from inside the house. He huffed and with a hand curled into a fist, began to bang on the ornate wooden door using all his strength. He didn't stop his incessant knocking until he heard someone undo the latch.

One angry green eye peered at him from the small slit between the door and frame. "What do you _want_?" the boy hissed at Alfred, putting as much hostility and chill-inducing rage into his words. With anyone else, maybe Alfred would have been put-off or even scared, but he had definitely seen that boy staring at him from the window, and he was going to get some answers.

"I just wanted to see who you were! I've never seen you outside before, but I'm like 100% sure you have been spying on me from the window up there!" With that, Alfred pointed up to the second story window that he had seen the boy stationed at earlier.

The mysterious boy looked shocked for a second, then embarrassed, then indignant. "I have done no such thing! I don't spy on people, thank you very much."

Alfred wasn't convinced. "Uh huh..." He then realized the way the boy talked was very strange. Suddenly everything made sense! "Hey listen, if you're embarrassed to come outside cuz you talk weird, you don't have to worry anymore! Me and my friends aren't gonna make fun of you at all!"

This time, the boy looked at Alfred like he was a creature of another planet, and Alfred realized maybe his assumption was wrong. The boy's eyes narrowed and he began to shut the big wooden door, the boundary that had been easing away slowly once again fully separated Alfred from the strange boy. Alfred understood that if he didn't do anything fast, he would likely lose this one and only opportunity of gaining this boy as a friend. He started for the door before it shut and pushed with all his might until he had barreled into the house.

The boy was taken completely off guard, having been knocked into the ground by Alfred's little stunt. Never having had his space invaded in such a way, he sat frozen as he looked at Alfred as if he was an animal that had just escaped its cage. Alfred himself felt proud for successfully entering the house and he shut the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the darkened house. Getting a good look at him, Alfred noticed that the boy was probably a little older than him. And besides the dark clothing and very pale skin, this boy didn't look very different than any of the other children he played with, so why didn't the boy want to play with them?

"Now that we're in private, I want you to give me some answers! Why don't you ever come outside to play with us? If it's not because you have a funny accent, then what is it? If you're scared you wouldn't fit in, you don't have to worry! We would never leave you out of our games, I swear! Scouts honor." Alfred crossed his heart with his finger and gave a wide smile to the boy still on the ground.

Once the shock finally wore off, the boy stood up and brushed himself off. "I'm not scared! And I don't want to play your games." The boy looked away. "Now kindly get out of my house. You're trespassing, you know. You'll get in big trouble for that."

Alfred wasn't getting thrown to the side that easily. "That's so mean! Why don't you want to play our games? They're a lot of fun! And say whatever you want, but I ain't gonna leave until you tell me the truth."

He could see the boy thoroughly weighing his options. After a tense few seconds, the green eyes relented their anger as the boy sighed defeat. "Fine, if you must know. It's not that I don't wish to go outside. I do. I really do. But..."

Alfred leaned in closer as the boy trailed off. "But what?"

"But...I just can't. I can't go outside. I have severe photosensitivity."

The look on Alfred's face must have shown his confusion because the boy explained a second later. "It means I'm allergic to the sun's rays. If I go outside, my skin will burn and swell up. It's quite painful. The only reason I look out the window occasionally at the lot of you is because I imagine what it's like to have friends and play in the sun together." The boy's eyes began to water. "Now that you have your answer, please leave me alone."

Throughout Alfred's 10 years of life, never once had he been speechless before now. He hadn't realized how lucky he was to be able to gain warmth and happiness from the sunlight, not counting it as a luxury when he should have been. Looking at the downcast eyes of the boy in front of him, seeing the waves of sadness and depression and longing, Alfred didn't even think about the words that came out of his mouth next.

"I'll be your sun. We can be friends and play inside."

Startled, and clearly not expecting that response, the boy's tear-filled eyes shot up to look at brightness radiating off of Alfred in front of him. "No, no. You don't need to pity me. I'm fine being by myself, that's how I've spent the last 12 years. I'm used to it. You don't need to sacrifice anything because of me; I've seen how free and happy and you look outside, you love it."

"Yeah but I'm sure playing inside will be just as fun! Especially with a new friend." Alfred's smile lit up the room, a light that the boy had never seen before. Light from another person, so warm and open that it enriched the boy's fragile heart. His eyes teared up again, this time for a different reason, and he smiled for the first time in years. He looked at Alfred and the darkness faded away, suddenly his world seemed a lot brighter.

The aura in the room began to change as Alfred looked at the older boy. He felt his heart swell, taking in the endlessly green eyes, soft wispy blond hair, and heartfelt smile on the boy's lips. Alfred had never felt so free.


	24. December 24th

**AUTHOR: Pandamoonlight**

**24th of December, 2014 - Presents for him**

November was almost over, and Alfred was already thinking about Christmas. He had so much things to do!

He looked at his list. After five hours shopping, he still hadn't buy the star to put on the tree, his cousin's present (which would probably be a plane ticket to Ukraine, since he wouldn't shut up about his new girlfriend… But that was rather expensive so a webcam for skype would do perfect), chocolates, soda and….

_Oh God,_ how could he forget?

He looked around. He was on the kids' zone, so there weren't any shops that cough his attention.

He walked around for ten minutes, making sure to look everywhere, but his mind was blank. He had no idea about what to do.

He was going to pass his first Christmas in without if family, in England, at his best friend's house, _at his long date crush's house_, and forgot to buy a present. How perfect.

Sure that he still had December, but then the shops would be full and he would not be able to think properly. With a sight, he went inside a store and walked in there for a bit. It had mainly women's cloths, but screw it.

He picked up his phone. Who would he text? After searching for a bit, he found the perfect person…. Well, almost perfect.

**[Me]**

**Francis need help its urgnt!**

**[Message sent 7:45 PM]**

**[Frenchie]**

**What's wrong, mon ami? Need help proposing to Artie?**

**[Message received 7:49 PM]**

**[Me]**

**What?! No! Need help chosin a gift for him**

**[Message sent 7:53 PM]**

**[Frenchie]**

**Oh well, I'm sure a kiss would be enough for him?**

**[Message received 7:58 PM]**

**[Me]**

**Fuck you!**

**[Message sent 8:00 PM]**

He sighed. Well, he had the perfect person with information, but the worst one to actually trust!

He looked up from his phone. He had, somehow, reached to men's zone of the store. And of course there was anything good enough for Arthur Kirkland, of course.

"Alfred-san?" a familiar voice came from behind him. He turned around and smiled. It couldn't be so bad after all….

"Kiku! I was just thinking about you!"

"Really?" the other asked, surprised. Now that Alfred noticed, he was not wearing his usual neutral coloured clothes. He was wearing a bright blue shirt, with the American flag on it, a black jacket and red jeans.

"Well yeah! Ya maybe could help me picking up something for Arthur!"

Kiku looked at him for short seconds before smiling "Sure. I think I know what you could give to him."

* * *

><p>Alfred arrived at his small apartment in London, dropping his bags on the floor before running to his room. He searched through his schoolbag and found his blue pen. Then, he went back the living room and grabbed one of the bags, taking a book out of it.<p>

_To this certain Brit with big eyebrows that also has a big hearth and is gorgeous._

He stopped. Shit, he wasn't supposed to have write this… Well screw it, he wouldn't simply dirty the page now just for Arthur not to read the sentence, right?

He them placed to book on the sofa, and grabbed another bag. This one had a much bigger object inside. Alfred took it out and smiled.

It was that big, brown teddy bear with a red lace around his neck that he knew Arthur always wanted when they went to some festival. He could only imagine the Brit's flushed cheeks when he opened his gift and found it! He would of course call him all the names that he could remember in any language, but he would love it.

And, at least, Alfred would have the sanity to give him the book in front of his family, and the teddy when they were alone on Arthur's room, after kissing-

Ok, the American was daydreaming a way too much.

He picked his phone and found out that he had two missed messages.

**[Frenchie]**

**Auch! Don't be so mean! But really, you should try… Now serious, give him a photo of you, to keep him entertained… If you know what I mean…. ;)**

**[Message received 8:07 PM]**

He shook his head, making a disgusted face. His hearth almost stopped when he saw from who was the other one.

**[Artie 3]**

**Alfred, I hope that the teddy bear I saw you buying isn't for me, because if it is… You can be sure I kill you.**

**[Message received 8:32 PM]**

Alfred laugh.

**[Me]**

**Chill dude! It's for m cousin**

**[Message sent 9:45 PM]**


	25. December 25th

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**25th of December, 2014**

Since 1945, it had been a tradition for the nations to get together at Christmas for what most of them fondly referred to as a 'bloodbath.'

That first year had actually started out as a light-hearted party at America's house, a celebration of their first merry Christmas after the terrible years of being a world at war. Of course, with the past behind them and freedom at last, it was almost inevitable that the event spiralled into a wild release of all that tension that had been building up over the past few terrible years.

Everyone agreed that it had been exactly what they needed, and the newly named "bloodbath" became an annual event – the one time of year they could all get together without worrying about politics and wars and how they were _supposed_ to be acting around each other.

Although it was always fantastic chaos, there was a semi-method to the madness. The nations headed over to the designated host's house with no more plans than to get drunk and crazy, and it was an unspoken agreement that whatever happened on Christmas _stayed_ with Christmas. No rules, no consequences – for one day out of every year in their restricted, immortal lives, they would be free to do whatever they wanted.

England and America had taken that first opportunity back in 1945 to fall into bed together without having to worry about what it would mean the next day. And that, too, had become an annual tradition. Not a Christmas had gone by without the two men finding each other at some point during the night, and slinking away together to be alone from the crowd. And not a soul would mention it afterwards, least of all America or England.

That was why England was so surprised when America showed up on his doorstep early on Christmas Day that year.

"The party is at France's house this year," he said automatically, forcing himself to assume that the younger nation had gotten lost along the way. He was clearly a little tipsy already, judging by the red cheeks and sparkling blue eyes shuttered behind heavy blinks.

"I know," America declared carelessly, sauntering past England into the house. "I decided to come here first 'cause I wanted to check something."

"Oh?" England enquired, raising an impressive, black eyebrow.

He couldn't help but let his hopes jump buoyantly as he followed the younger nation into the house. He'd thought about this, too – showing up to America's house on Christmas morning and ignoring the party so they would have all day in bed together. They both knew they'd end up there anyway, so why not get a head start?

But he'd never let himself do it because they _needed_ the party as their excuse. Meeting there with the other drunken nations around was the only reason they could come together every year the way they did, without having to talk about it afterwards.

Because talking about it was the last thing England wanted to do.

Even America and England weren't too oblivious to realise what it meant to sleep with someone, unfailingly, for seventy years straight. But if they talked about it then it was real, and if it was real it could be taken away.

Best to leave it for Christmas Day and be happy with what they could have.

"Yeah, it was about later," said America, now sprawled easily across England's sofa as if he owned the room, legs spread apart confidently and one arm slung over the back of the seat. "You're not planning on getting with anyone else tonight, are you?"

England actually winced in disgust. "No, why would you even ask?" he grimaced, on reflex. Then quickly, remembering he was supposed to be completely clueless about the possibility of sex they would definitely be having later, he added, "I mean, I never go to these things with plans in my head. I think you're missing the point of the Christmas bloodbath."

America eyed him critically, and England flushed at the transparent lie.

"Yeah, yeah," said America. "Anyway, that's good. 'Cause I was just..I dunno, I was worried you might wander off early and then I wouldn't get to see you all evening. I didn't see you much this year so I was hoping we could hang out."

He looked away to the wall as he spoke, casually ignoring England even as the older nation finally moved to sit on the sofa beside him.

"I don't know why you've got your knickers in such a twist," England sighed. "Of course I'd be able to make time for you – you're always in my face pestering me and it's very hard to ignore."

He was just about to ask why America had come all the way here for such a silly thing when America glanced sideways at him, briefly, then back at the wall. His eyes were shining, and England realised it's because they were wet.

"Are you drunk?" he exclaimed, his most diplomatic way of asking '_Why are you crying?!_'

America sniffed and withdrew his arm from the back of the couch, shrinking into himself. "Little. Just…tipsy? I can drink in the U.K., 'member?"

England turned towards him properly, and America twisted even more to avoid the other's eye as England peered at him.

"America…" said England gently, worried now. He reached out and took America's hand, and the younger nation leapt at the brief touch of skin before snatching his and away.

"America, what's wrong? Please tell me," England urged, scooting closer only for America to inch away. "If it's something I've done, please let me know. Tonight of all nights I want us to get along." He realised what he'd said too late, and then realised he didn't care. The laws of secrecy that governed the annual bloodbath may not apply in his own living room, but he wanted to be honest right now, if that would make America feel better.

"America, of course I'll spend the whole party with you. I wait for this night all year long. I just want us to be...together."

And for some reason, America burst into tears.

"You idiot, England!" he bawled, clenching his fist and hitting the arm of the sofa in frustration.

England stared, completely bewildered and horrified.

"A-America! Please! Come here, it's okay."

He had no idea what he was saying, nor what he was trying to achieve by reaching out to pull America closer. But surprisingly, America fell into his arms, resting his nose against England's collar and fisting his hands into the nation's shirt.

"What do you think it means when I ask you to spend Halloween with me?" he said against England's skin, his sudden outburst dying down into sniffles and a few wet teardrops. "When you stay at my house to make popcorn and watch movies? Or I spend every meeting finding ways to make it all about you? And that's just _this_ year! What about 2011 when I asked you to _dress up_ with me for Halloween? Or a couple of years ago when I let you share the bed because of a ghost?"

England found himself patting Alfred's back absent-mindedly as he listened to the angry tirade. "I'm sorry, darling, I don't understand," he said, a little lost.

"You do! _You do_!" America wailed, banging England half-heartedly on the chest. "Every Christmas it's the same, and it's perfect, and I feel like you finally might answer me – and then the next day it's like you don't even care. I've shown you a thousand times how I feel and you never want to understand. Won't you just…just give me a break, England? I've told you what I want. Just tell me if you feel the same, too, so I don't have to go through this anymore."

England's hand slid up and down America's back rhythmically, now more to soothe himself than the young nation leaning, warm and heavy, into his body.

His thoughts tore around his head in chaotic loops and twists, his heart pumping painfully as decade's worth of hope and elation threatened to burst out of it at once.

"America…I know I'm not the easiest person to talk to. But if you could just tell me in words…what you've been trying to say all these years…"

He held his breath, his mind and heart and whole life slowing down to hear what America would say next.

"I want to be with you like this every day, not just at Christmas," came the muffled reply, breathed into England's neck. "You can't tell me you didn't know?"

England's arms lifted to wrap around America's shoulders and hold him tight, and America pressed closer, a hitch in his breath that he gasped against England's cheek as he sat up straighter to look the older nation in the eye.

"I'm sorry, America," said England, though he was smiling. "It seems I really am that stupid. I knew…how we both felt," he admitted with a blush, "but I didn't realise you wanted to risk giving it a chance."

America's blue eyes pierced him, so sincere and determined that England couldn't help but feel naked under his gaze.

"I've known this is what I want since the day I met you, England. It's not really a risk anymore," he smiled.

England stared back, stunned into silence for a moment. Then America laughed at the expression on his face, and England leaned in, drawn instinctively to that warmth and joy only America could bring. And both their eyes closed as they pressed their lips together in a kiss, and another, and longer, deeper.

They probably should have felt scared, or at least a bit naïve. But both men knew they would live their whole immortal lives and never regret this decision that had been waiting for them all these years.

Not now that they'd finally made the right choice.


	26. December 26th

**ARTIST: theconfusedartist (Art is available on the 3_65daysofusuk_ tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**26th of December, 2014 - Riddle Me This**

Ravenclaw Tower was a wonderful sight to behold, with oil lamps casting a warm glow, bookshelves lining every wall, and festive garlands wrapped around the intricate metalwork of the spiral staircases. Dormitories branched off from each level of the tower, connected by the narrow catwalks that gave students access to each other and all of the shelves. It was a tradition for each graduating Ravenclaw to leave a textbook or novel. After a millennium, the books stretched from the common area to the sunlight at the very top of the tower.

Arthur never tired of the sight and he borrowed a book from the collection whenever he had a moment to spare. Truly, he loved being in the house of wit and learning.

But as much as he adored his house and its clever students, there was one aspect that Arthur could have done without. The stupid riddle he had to solve every time he came back from class! On days when he had finished a hard test or spent hours slaving over an essay in the library, he just wanted to be able to walk into his house and take a well-deserved nap without having to prove that he was a clever person _yet again_. And if he didn't know the answer, he had to wait for some other student to arrive, making him look ignorant in the process.

So after a long day spent studying in the library during Christmas break, Arthur approached the door to Ravenclaw Tower with some trepidation. He stared at the bronze eagle knocker and hoped for an easy riddle. His hopes were dashed as the magical knocker recited a short rhyme:

_Two are we,_

_What fools we be,_

_That pine and yearn,_

_But do not see._

Arthur tried not to groan. Instead he pursed his lips in thought and attempted to puzzle out an answer. As he was thinking, he heard steps approach from behind. He felt a rush of relief, until he turned around to see that it was _Alfred_ walking his way.

The other Ravenclaw student was handsome and funny and he had an annoying way of making Arthur's insides turn to mush. Unfortunately, the first time Arthur had begun to feel certain flutterings in his chest (namely, when Alfred had lost his shirt after spilling a shrinking potion on it during potions class), he had mistaken it for indigestion and taken out his ire on the other blond. Things had gone downhill from there, leading them to constantly snipe at each other about shortcomings both real and imagined. If Arthur had ever had a chance with the goofy, gorgeous young man, he had certainly blown it by now.

"Hey, Artie! Can I help you with the riddle?" Alfred asked, giving Arthur a confident smirk as he sauntered up to the door.

"I don't know. _Can_ you?" Arthur retorted, channeling his inner English teacher. He wanted to wipe that smirk off Alfred's face with a punch or a kiss, but he wasn't sure which.

Oblivious to Arthur's inner turmoil, Alfred just laughed and waited for the knocker to repeat the riddle. When the knocker finished, he wrinkled his nose in confusion, and Arthur tried not to think about how _adorable_ he looked at that moment. Life was so unfair.

"I suppose that's a no," Arthur taunted, relieving the tension with a well-aimed insult.

Alfred glared. "Well, why don't you solve it, Mr. Sm_artie_-pants?"

"I will!" Arthur shouted back. He crossed his arms and glared at the bronze knocker. "So, it's two of something and they're blind," he reasoned aloud.

"It's two blind mice who smell some cheese but can't reach it!"

Arthur gave the other boy an incredulous stare. He wondered, yet again, why he had fallen for a spacey dreamer who believed in aliens and crumple-horned snorkacks.

"Oh, I guess not," Alfred said with a crestfallen expression when the door remained closed. Arthur wanted to wrap him in a comforting hug, but he resisted the temptation.

"'What fools these mortals be' is a line from A Midsummer Night's Dream," Arthur explained. "So it must be about blind mortals."

They tossed ideas back and forth for the next half hour, and Arthur discovered that it was rather pleasant to spend time with Alfred when they weren't fighting. Perhaps it was just the holiday spirit, but the teasing felt good-natured in a way it hadn't before.

"You know, love is blind," Alfred suddenly suggested. "Maybe it's about two lovers?"

"That's… a good point," Arthur replied, making Alfred blush from the unexpected compliment. Seeing those red cheeks, he swore to himself that he would try harder to say nice things to the other Ravenclaw student. "But they aren't lovers yet. That's why they have to pine and yearn for what they don't have and think they never will."

Alfred gave a heartfelt sigh. "Man, I know the feeling."

"So do I," Arthur replied, catching Alfred's gaze and admiring the way his cheeks darkened further. Like all riddles, it seemed so simple once he had figured it out. "Would you like to go on a date to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

Alfred grinned. "That sounds awesome."

The door swung open, letting them both enter the tower, blushing as they brushed shoulders while climbing up the main staircase. Arthur felt a surge of gratitude for the magical knocker and its tricky riddles. As a thank you, he tied a lovely blue bow to the knocker. Seemingly pleased by Arthur and Alfred's happy new relationship, it asked ridiculously easy questions for the rest of Christmas break. Truly, Ravenclaw was the best house.

* * *

><p>Credit to Mayumisatosan for the story idea! (Link to the original prompt can be found on the 3<em>65daysofusuk<em> tumblr.)


	27. December 27th

**AUTHOR: yao-braginski**

**27th of December, 2014 - ****Collector**

Arthur was a chronic hoarder, though Arthur insisted he was a 'collector'. Alfred knew as well as anyone that pinching sugar sachets from cafés or keeping company pens or storing clothes that had been purchased fourteen years prior wasn't exactly the same as collecting antiques. Their house was bursting with useless trinkets.

As a consequence, Alfred no longer understood how his brother could live in a house that was so pristine and had so many empty spaces. Alfred _needed_ corners of organised clutter, windowsills encumbered with tiny, sun-bleached figurines and drawers of unused bookmarks, because it reminded him of home. It reminded him of Arthur.

While their house was cluttered, it was well-maintained; which was why when Alfred spotted a protrusion under the bedroom carpet, he found it pretty odd. Arthur would have let him know about any loose floorboards.

It was almost underneath the wardrobe, a place that would easily be overlooked and after Alfred investigated, he easily deducted that the dislodged floorboard was no accident, judging by the clean, oblong-shaped incisions in the carpet.

He'd never been the kind of person to think things through, especially things that involved mysterious, uprooted floorboards in his bedroom. His mind reeled with what could possibly be underneath; a musty time capsule from the 1800's, a skeleton key that led to an unearthed room or a bloodied relic of someone that had been murdered by previous owners.

Alfred really hoped that he was wrong about the bloody relic though.

Upon closer inspection, it turned out that none of his guesses were correct and he was disappointed to find a mistreated mobile phone box. It was from a chunky, outdated Nokia, the owner of the phone having once been Arthur but the old thing had been disposed of many years ago. Which meant that, one, the box had been hidden away by Arthur and, two, it had been in tucked away in their bedroom, unnoticed, for longer than Alfred wanted to think about.

The box was obviously something Arthur wanted to keep private, _private from Alfred, _which Alfred didn't like at all. He had no secrets from Arthur, no hidden treasures or sordid past lives and, up until now, Alfred thought Arthur was the same.

He didn't exactly feel proud of himself but the box was open and the contents scattered across the floor before he could rationalise the situation.

Arthur was his husband, Alfred reasoned, he deserved to know what was in the box.

At first, Alfred thought it was another one of Arthur's collections of useless rubbish. A ripped cinema ticket, a receipt dating back to 2004, a square of faded Christmas wrapping paper, an array of outdated American and British postage stamps, a small box of dried bluebells, various other souvenirs... but then there was a photograph of him and Arthur. It was from also 2004, when they had first started dating.

Alfred had completely forgotten about the photo but now it was before him, happy memories came swarming back. It had been taken in a bar in New Orleans, Arthur was looking down into his drink, begrudgingly smiling, and Alfred had an arm wrapped around him and was holding a hastily written sign that said 'I'm gonna kiss him'.

Alfred had kissed him as soon as the picture had been taken. Arthur had been pissed the person behind the camera hadn't let him know about Alfred's plan and had allowed him to sit obliviously beside the sign like 'some daft wanker'. It had been their first kiss.

Alfred smiled and stared at the picture for a long time before picking up the cinema ticket. Just as he thought, it was the awful movie he took Arthur to on their first date. They'd almost been kicked out of the cinema because of Arthur's loud criticisms. Alfred had been terrified he'd messed up his chances because of the bad movie.

Arthur had come back to him though. Arthur always came back to Alfred.

The receipt was from the second date; they'd gone for ice cream sundaes. Arthur discovered an undying love for ice cream sundaes that day. Alfred discovered he'd had cream on his cheek the whole time and Arthur decided not to tell Alfred about it for his own amusement.

The wrapping paper was from the first Christmas gifts they'd exchanged. They'd had no idea what to get each other so they'd bought each other their favourite DVD and had demanded the other watch it. Arthur's had been, and still was, a lame ass Jane Austen movie.

The stamps were from the letters Alfred had sent to Arthur when he temporarily moved back to the UK. And the bluebells from the garden of the first apartment they lived in together.

Alfred went through everything in the box, finding more old photographs, sweet wrappers, broken shells and all sorts of pointless knick-knacks. Alfred could feel himself tearing up so he gently placed everything back in the box and the box back under the floorboard.

With an affectionate smile, Alfred decided Arthur didn't need to know he had found that particular box. It was the only secret they would both keep, about each other, with each other.


	28. December 28th

December 28th, 2014 - Why We Celebrate

**AUTHOR:** Pepper's Ghost

**28th of December, 2014 - Why We Celebrate**

England wasn't expecting much for the rest of the season. The holiday had come and gone but he made little fanfare of the whole thing. It was hard to when everyone he cared about was off someplace else – probably halfway dead with the way the war was going and all. It didn't stop him from trying to make the best of it for all of the others around him even though his heart wasn't in it. Yes, the war wasn't over by Christmas like they all hoped and people were suffering the fall out but there was no reason to be a scrooge about it.

So it was particularly stunning to him when he exited one of his officer's offices and nearly dropped his files. It couldn't be, but he was sure it was – his America was here. Too stunned to even call out, England tried to race forward.

It was a bad move on his part though. His knee locked up painfully causing him to cry out. His papers flew everywhere but at the last second he managed to catch himself on the wall and ride out the vertigo the sudden pain caused.

"There's nothing wrong with wheelchairs you know," said a voice from in front of him. The voice brought things back into focus a bit. England was now acutely aware that he had not been mistaken before and the figure was indeed America. America who already had too much to worry about and had just seen his little episode.

"I know that!" said England. His bark was a bit too harsh and England regretted it immediately at America's flinch. "I know that just as well as the next man," said England again. He straightened his uniform jacket and snatched his papers back from America. "I just don't ruddy need one."

They stood in the hallway awkwardly. They'd had less then ideal meeting starts before but given the season and everything it was a disappointment for both of them.

Resolving to make the most of the situation England spoke again, "Gosh it's been ages since I've last seen you." He tucked the papers under his arm and sized America up. America just indulged the other with a small half smile and let England's eyes roll over him – taking in the just-got-off-the-transport appearance, slightly warn out but shockingly clean clothes, the nick on his ear that was almost healed but England caught it with a frown anyway, the slightly shaggy hair from being out in the field for too long, the mud on his boots that he was tracking all over the place despite what England was sure was best intentions.

"Come," said England propelling America forward so that they were set to walk in step with each other. "Let's go get dinner."

"Actually I was looking for Matthew."

America would not budge. His eyes were downcast but even when England squeezed his shoulder America did not move. At a bit of a loss, England continued, "Well Matthew can come too then."

"O-oh well – " said America. The stutter had raised some flags for England. America stepping back made it even worse. America had not conceded ground to England in a very, very long time. Not with unresolved issues on the table. Not ever like this.

"What is it?" said England. He drew America back close to him and quickly looked him over for problems, then cased the hallway fro threats. "What's wrong Alfred?"

"Nothing's wrong – I'm fine – Everything is fine – Well actually we're in a war and all and that's not fine but – "

"No buts," said England. "I know better then that. Something is up and you will tell me."

England reached out to grab America's hand but stopped immediately at America's painful cry when he was gently grabbed.

"Oh Alfred what is the matter with your hand?"

"It's nothing," said Amerca quickly. He drew his hand back from England's exceedingly light grip but England was having none of that.

"Nonsense," said England. He made to grab America's injured hand again but skillfully shifted his target to the other hand at the last minute. England immediately noticed America's wince.

"Both hands?"

America gave a faint nod.

"How on earth did you manage to hurt both hands?" said England. He did his best to soothingly rub the American's forearms and the hurt he had inadvertently caused. "Answer me now Alfred."

America was quiet for a long while before blowing the hair out of his eyes and answering, "I was with a unit that got pinned down between a rock and a smoking hot gun. I didn't want to see everyone die so I just moved the gun out of the way."

"And torched your hands," said England.

"Yep."

"Oh you daft fool," said England. He drew America into a bone-crushing hug being mindful of the other's hand placement. "That certainly explains why you're back from the campaign. Nobody gives a damn about Christmas anymore. Better off just pretending it's another day and not get your hopes up. Less likely to get hurt that way."

"Come now," England continued. "Lets go get some dinner. Matthew can have the night off. I'll feed you myself."

"But – " Again America was giving him ground and backing into the wall.

"So it's apparently ok for Matthew to feed you but I can't hmm."

"No."

"It's ok love. My hand might not be as steady as it used to be but I swear by each of the stars on your flag that I will not slop hot soup all over you."

"That's not it…it's just…I'd hate to be a burden or anything. I'm supposed to be helping you in this war, not the other way around."

"It would be my pleasure to help you love. Besides you're looking a bit peaky. Even with the rationing I know you probably aren't getting enough to eat. I must rectify the situation immediately."

Despite his massive blush, America no longer protested as England started to pull him back down the hallway.

"Don't worry Alfred," said England. He braced the other against him both for the American's comfort and to keep himself steady. "No one will notice the two of us. There's that singer in town – doing one last Christmas show for all the boys who just got off the boats and missed out on Christmas."

"That does sound nice," said America.

"Indeed it does. We'll have ourselves a little belated Christmas. You and me. Push away all the troubles, let our hearts be light."

"And I'll take you dancing afterwards," America cut in. "Even without my hands we can still enjoy the night."

"Simply ideal. You won't stop eating until I say you are full."

They walked down the hall arm and arm. It wasn't much but it was something.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>_ I'm sure there are tons of interesting things that have happened over the years on December 28. But finding them? Another story entirely. So we get a vague drabble set in probably 1942. This was supposed to be about how hopeful people got around the holidays. Hope that was, often times, deadly if you look at the upswing of death and diseased that always tended to come right after the holidays. But then I realize that that was really depressing and these drabbles are supposed to be at least an attempt at lightheartedness. So instead we got something hopefully happy about two people who didn't get to do the holiday thing because war is rarely accommodating yet still managing to find each other and be together in their own celebration._


	29. December 29th

December 29th, 2014

**ARTIST: **april-cherie-sprinkles

**AUTHOR:** fuji-kumori

**29th of December, 2014**

Despite it being a few days before New years, there still was large crowds of people roaming the streets. The noises of people's conversations and laughter filled the streets, some walking hand in hand, others in groups or by themselves.

Though, what was certainly unusual was the small wooden stage in the center of the street with a crowd surrounding it.

_"There are human beings, both old and young, alone, in our cruel world."_

That was what had gained people's attention or snotty glares. Either way, it piqued people's curiosity,

Which, had also managed to gain the attention of a certain Arthur Kirkland.

It was a cold Monday in New York City, which had urged the young man to wear a red sweater and gloves. Whichever kept him warm, he had decided that morning. 'Doesn't really matter,' he had thought. 'I'm not here to impress anyone.'

He stood in front of the stage, looking up at the man that was giving out his announcement.

_"We're here standing around, not giving a crap about the others in a much worse situation."_

"What he's speaking out is amazing, ain't it?"

Surprised, Arthur looked to the right of him, seeing a blond man a couple of years younger than him. 'Must be 19 years old,' he thought to himself.

"Excuse me?" These words slipped out, as he looked at the other in his Curelan eyes.

"What he's saying, yeah know?" The other shoved his hands into his blue winter jacket, looking at him over his glasses. "It's all true. People here, like in the states, don't really care about those in places like Africa," he paused, taking out his hand from his pocket and raising, while slightly turning his body. "Name's Alfred."

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland, a pleasure," he took the other's hand and gently grasped it as if to greet him back. He pulled back, still looking at the man.

"What are you doing here along? Got any family?"

"'It's 'Do you have any family' and no I don't," Alfred's eyes slightly widened in surprise. "They're all back in the UK, doing their own thing. I'm by myself in my flat."

"Is that so?" Alfred smiled at him before turning to look back at the man up on stage.

_"We are all so ungrateful, blinded by the bad things in life, when we are privileged."_

"What about you? Where's your family?"

"Mattie's up in Canada," he said calmly. "And as for my parents…."

_"We're all one family here, yet, we turn our head when we see others in trouble."_

"Well, that's not really important."

"Sorry I asked."

"It's alright."

_"So just remember, even if things are looking down, there is always someone there for you, even if it doesn't seem so."_

Arthur stood there, taking in what the man had just said. His hand twitched slightly before he felt a hand entwining with his. Arthur flinched and looked to his right. "Alfred?"

"I'll be here for you," he smiled before looking at him. "I'll be here for you if you want."

"Excuse me?"

"You've told me," Alfred winked at him. "You're alone. And I said I'll be there for you."

Arthur stared at him blankly, with a slightly agape mouth. He closed his mouth a turned away, "Idiot."


	30. December 30th

December 30th, 2014 - Cad

**AUTHOR**: last-haven

**30th of December, 2014 - Cad**

"Hey, can I see your hand for a moment?"

Rose looked up from her needlework and frowned. "What are you up to, Alfred?"

Her boyfriend gave her a careless grin. "You'll see. Trust me, it'll be good."

"I'm not sure I trust that," she murmured, setting her hoop and thread down on the table. "Last time you said that we ended up destroying someone's chimney with a hot air balloon."

"That would have worked if we hadn't lost altitude so fast at the end." He pouted. "C'mon, Rosie, let me see your hand. Please! Left one."

With a sigh, she reluctantly raised her hand up for him. Grinning gleefully, he snatched it and dragged it towards him. She looked away, trying to look nonchalant as he fiddled with her hand, taking the moment to peer at her needlework. She tried to make sure all her stitches were neat and tight, but when she felt him put something on her finger she had to look up.

He had put a ring on her ring finger; it was shaped like a trio of golden stars, made of the delicate glass beads she had to help him buy for the costumes he had to help design. He'd been laboring over a play for a month, but she'd had no idea that this was what he was making. It took her breath away.

"Oh, Al," she sighed, turning her hand about to admire the way the light caught it. "It's beautiful."

"Really? Wonderful!" He grinned, and without another word, yanked the ring off her finger. She stared at it dumbfounded as he put it in his toolbox for safekeeping. "I'm glad you like it—it should be perfect in the play then."

She glared at her now bare finger before she glanced at his wicked grin. Two can play that game, sir. Picking up her sewing hoop, she hurled it at him. It smacked him dead on in the forehead, but with the flat cloth side instead of the hard plastic of the ring like she hoped. He cried out like it had though.

"Oh, cruel, vicious woman, what have I done to you?"

"You're an idiot," she snapped, reaching out to get her hoop back. "And a cad! Ugh, any fool should know that you can't put a ring on that finger and then just pull back off like it meant nothing!"

"Can't say I ever heard that one before," he admitted. She scowled at him and grabbed at her hoop; he caught her hand again. "Well, in that case, try this one instead."

From his pants' pocket, he pulled out a small black box. She went silent as he plucked out a sapphire and silver ring, sliding it onto her finger. Pulling her hand away gently, she settled back into her chair in stunned silence. The ring was exquisite and far more practical than the gold star ring to boot.

When she looked up at him, he was still grinning. Scowling, she started to wrench the ring off her finger again. "I'm not putting up with your teasing again today."

"Ah! No, you can't do that," he whined, grabbing her wrist and hand. "You'll break the bond of our love."

"And where did you hear that one? You've been spending too much time with Francis."

He shrugged. "Maybe." Reaching into the black box again, he pulled out a simpler silver band with a small sapphire embedded into it. "But here, you see, we match. You can't take yours off or I'll look stupid."

"You are stupid," she mumbled, tears stinging her eyes. "And a jerk. If you're teasing me again, I'll chuck this ring at your head."

"Well, that's better than your hoop, I guess." He grinned at her. "With these rings I'm _your_ idiot," he pulled a funny face, pointing at his ring for emphasis._"And you're stuck with me for the rest of your life!"_

She snorted and swiped at the tears streaming from her eyes. "Sorry. You're not an idiot."

"Ah, babe," he murmured, getting up from his chair to hug her. "Don't cry. I was just being silly."

"I know," she half giggled and cried. "I'm crying because I don't know what I just got myself into."

He laughed loudly and dove for a kiss; she caught him full on her grinning mouth.


	31. December 31st

December 31st, 2014

**AUTHOR:** carreicmoney

**31st of December, 2014**

In some hole in the wall diner that didn't even have the decency to be a chain, Al and Arthur sat over bad coffee and worse fries and watched the ball drop in Times Square two time zones away.

"I bet New York's lovely this time of year," Arthur told his coffee cup, tracing the rim of it with a dusty finger. Al snorted.

"Yeah, if you like dirty snow and dirty air." He threw back the dregs of his and waved at the waitress for a refill.

Arthur glared at him and let the waitress top off his cup, too, although he didn't really want any more. "You're impossible to please, you know that?"

"Mom tells me that e'rry day." Al watched him for several long moments before flicking his eyes back up to the TV screen, where the news anchor was holding her hat down against the night wind. "You wanna go?"

"Sure, I'm done here."

"I mean go. To New York." Al jerked his thumb at the TV. "We're unemployed, uneducated, dirty farm boys, and I got-" He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the bills- "Sixty-eight dollars to my name. Seventy if I don't tip." The waitress passing by huffed, and he shot his best smile at her. "We'll stop by the house, get some clothes and a toothbrush, then get a lift at the truck stop and get the hell outta here."

Arthur stared at him. "You're serious."

"Dead straight." The corner of Al's mouth twitched up. "What's it gonna be, bud?"

Arthur frowned, chewed on his tongue, then sighed. "We can't just pick up and leave, Al, that's not how it _works__-_"

"And why not?"

"I have a job! And- and rent! And a cat!"

"Mom loves Cake, she'll take her in a flash, your job stinks like a horse's ass, and you don't have rent if you're not there." Al nudged him with his foot under the table. "C'mon, let's _go__!_"

"You're crazy."

"Born and bred. Tell ya what, how about-" He started patting his jacket pockets, then his pants. He grinned up at Arthur through his bangs.

"You got a quarter?"


End file.
